


Strength

by BouncyPickle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Brotherhood, Explicit Language, Friendship, Gang Rape, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BouncyPickle/pseuds/BouncyPickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gwaine is held captive by Morgana and her men, his pain becomes their entertainment. After he is saved by Arthur and the knights, Gwaine has some very serious injuries and emotional baggage to carry. What he doesn't know is that he doesn't have to carry it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Sorry I suck at summaries. Just in case someone missed the warnings, this story contains rape as well as violence.

* * *

 

Gwaine had nodded off for what felt like seconds when hands descended on him. One on each arm and one in his hair, they roughly hauled him to his feet. Startling awake, he scrambled to regain his barrings, thrashing against the violent fists dragging him toward the cell door.

Elyan jumped at one of the guards, probably out of reflex more than anything, and tried fruitlessly to pry his grip of off Gwaine. “Leave him! Can't you see he's had enough? Take me instead! I'll put all of you cunts in your place-”

The man backhanded Elyan across the face so hard he lost his footing and crashed to the stone floor with a grunt.

Gwaine sent his friend the most self-assured and cocky smirk he could muster. Honestly, Gwaine was sure of nothing at the moment, escape and comfort least of all. It took all the effort he could muster not to let it show. For Gaius' sake as well as Elyan's.

“It's fine,” Gwaine flipped his hair out of his face as he let the guards steer him out of the small room; “I'm sure she'll run out of witless oafs eager to fall on their own blades eventually.” He winked and as he was taken down the hallway, Gwaine heard Elyan's disbelieving chuckle. It reminded him what he fought for.

A group of soldiers had gathered in the throne room and they whooped when Gwaine was thrown before Morgana. It was with such great force that Gwaine stumbled and crashed to his knees while Morgana approached him.

“That look suits you, knight,” Morgana chided, circling Gwaine. She stopped when she was behind him and shoved her boot into his back, holding him in place; “bowing before me on your _knees_.”

The thugs laughed at him as Gwaine scowled and shook Morgana off, standing to face her.

“Funny that you should think so,” Gwaine smirked; “Cause I was just picturing how good you'd look on _your_ knees. I bet it suits you more.”

Morgana chuckled bitterly, snatching Gwaine's chin and holding his face in place as she leaned in closer. “Watch your mouth or I'll have to find a better use for it.” Her words were ice and Gwaine knew he shouldn't push his luck, but his retort tumbled past his lips before he could stop himself.

“I can think of a couple uses for yours,” Gwaine said lewdly, a devilish smirk on his face. It was very much unlike him to act like this toward women, but his hatred for Morgana was blinding.

Rage twitched in Morgana's face but she masked it with a maniacal grin. “What do you say?” she spoke over her shoulder, to her men; “Will none of you help me silence this pest?”

A brusque looking man stepped forward, crooked yellow teeth sticking out of his face-splitting smirk; “It'd be my pleasure, my Lady.”

“And mine,” another cut in.

The whole group of soldiers cheered when a man behind Gwaine caught him by surprise and shoved him to the floor. His hands still bound, Gwaine made to strike the man with bare fists, but another hand snagged the chain holding his wrists together and tugged his hands behind his head. Gwaine fought to stand, but he was forced to his knees, three men holding him by his shoulders, his arms, his hair.

“Now this doesn't look much like a fair fight,” Gwaine commented breezily, hiding the fact the he was afraid. He seriously did not like where this was going.

“Who said anything about fair?” Morgana sank into the throne, grinning; “Or a fight for that matter?” she cocked her head, feigning confusion and the men holding Gwaine chuckled as he tested their hold on him again. “Do whatever pleases you,” Morgana crossed her legs staring down her nose at Gwaine; “The more humiliating—the better.”

Gwaine's stomach plummeted when the man in front of his shoved a hand into his trousers, obviously pleasuring himself. Gwaine tried to jerk his head back but immediately regretted his actions when he realized the soldier behind him had already taken his stiff manhood from his pants.

Gwaine felt a distinct horror overcome him. These men couldn't possibly want... His insides went cold and all of his blood drained. He struggled, hands gripping him so tight bruises were seared into him like brands, but it was to no avail.

“Bet all you Camelot knights fuck each other,” one man jeered and Gwaine stiffened, jaw clenching.

The soldier in front of Gwaine pulled his hard member from his breeches and Gwaine flinched back; “Not so chatty now, huh you little cunt? Bet you suck cock like the best of em.”

Then Gwaine took a breath in through his nose and smirked. “Wouldn't you like to know,” he spat.

“Oh trust me, Sir Knight, I plan on finding out,” the man used his meaty fist to guide his cock to Gwaine's face, rubbing against Gwaine's lips and leaving behind a trail of precum; “Now open up.”

Gwaine didn't. Instead he turned his head to the side and pulled at his arms again. It was desperate; frustration was building and making Gwaine squirm. “Fuck you.”

“You wish, cunt,” the man grunted, twisting his fingers in Gwaine's hair until Gwaine writhed; “Now _open your mouth_.”

“Put that tiny prick near my mouth again, and you'll regret it;” Gwaine threatened through clenched teeth and it sounded empty even to his own ears. Around them, some men chuckled at the insult.

“You won't think it's so small when you're choking on it,” the man growled lowly.

A hand shot out and snagged Gwaine by jaw, another pinching his nose. The one on his mandible squeezed, trying to force Gwaine's mouth open and Gwaine fought. No amount of thrashing and struggling made any difference. Gwaine's lungs screamed for air and when he could no longer take it, Gwaine gasped.

The moment his lips parted, the man forced himself into Gwaine's mouth. Gwaine immediately choked as it pushed past the precipice of his throat. The soldier let out a moan as he shoved himself further into Gwaine's mouth, wrenching the knight forward by his hair. Gwaine gagged at the taste and coughed at the invasion, muffled by the cock asphyxiating him.

Gwaine's first instinct was to bite down, to fight, and he did. The man's raunchy moans turned into a high-pitched shriek the moment Gwaine snapped his jaw shut. When the man jumped back, Gwaine wasted no time spitting all of the man's semen from his mouth.

Gwaine growled; “I warned you.”

His victory was short-lived, however. The moment the man regained his barrings, he let out a feral shout and kicked Gwaine in the sternum. The blow had enough force to send Gwaine out of the other men's grasps, sprawling on the floor. He knew immediately that he'd broken at least one rib.

Gwaine was disoriented, but saw a chance to escape. Trying to turn, Gwaine thrashed when hands descended on him again, pinning him down on his back. They wrenched his arms above his head and held him firmly in place. New men moved to grab at his legs, his hips, his thighs, and it felt so unbelievably wrong. Hands were everywhere. Men surrounded him.

Gwaine let out a frustrated shout, fighting desperately to get away...and failing.

“You're gonna regret that,” the man above Gwaine promised, falling heavily onto Gwaine's abdomen, straddling him. A blade was unsheathed from the man's belt. Gwaine fell unbearably still when the larger man pressed the cold steel into Gwaine's cheekbone, drawing a small cut and stripe of blood.

“If you're gonna act like a little bitch,” the man grunted, sliding the dagger down past Gwaine's chin to his neckline. When it met the shiny metal of Gwaine's pendant, he stopped; “Then we are gonna treat you like one.” He tore the necklace off. Gwaine seethed in rage when the man brought it to his filthy mouth and ran his tongue over the silver pendant, before stuffing it into his pocket.

“What say you, my Lady?” the man asked, not looking away from Gwaine; “Shall we put this cunt in his place?”

“I say _all_ of you deserve a reward,” Morgana sounded absolutely gleeful and it made Gwaine shiver. Then her voice took on a cold, commanding tone; “Don't stop until he cries.”

“You heard the lady, lads,” the man on top of Gwaine chuckled. His hot breath skimmed across Gwaine's face and Gwaine retched. Then the man leaned back and backhanded Gwaine with enough force to split his lip. His head snapped to the side and he could taste the blood spilling into his mouth.

The reality of what was about to happen hit Gwaine and he began to struggle anew. Some of the men pulled his shirt up, revealing his rippling muscles and heaving chest. They were grabbing everything, touching everywhere. It was overwhelming and Gwaine couldn't fight the panic taking over him.

“Flip 'im over,” the man on top of Gwaine ordered and before Gwaine could even squirm, he was face down.

Someone pulled his hips upward, but others held his shoulders to the floor. When he felt hands tugging his pants down, Gwaine lashed out with his quickly dwindling energy. He managed to pull himself up, land a blow on someone's jaw and let out a string of profane curses before he was subdued again.

The man behind him yanked Gwaine's arms behind his head until they would go no further and held him in place. Gwaine was panting, sweating, and tremors wracked his body. “I won't let you bastards do this!” he ground out.

“I don't reckon there's anything you can do to stop us,” a voice jeered in front of Gwaine, jerking his head up by his hair. The man lifted a glinting dagger and smirked before slashing down. Gwaine flinched as the blade severed a brunette lock; “Bet you're awfully proud of this pretty hair.”

Laughs resounded as Gwaine's hair was cut off. It fell choppily around Gwaine's face and he watched as lock after lock flitted to the floor. His hands, still restrained uncomfortably behind his head clenched into fists.

“Thanks lads,” Gwaine mustered a bitter smirk; “I've been in need of a good haircut.”

All he received for his cheeky commentary was a rough tug on his arms. “Cut his shirt off while you're at it. He don't need it any more.”

The thugs around Gwaine were none to careful shredding his shirt, blades sliced into his skin and left behind oozing crimson slits. He tried his hardest to refrain from wincing, but his strength was slowly leaving him.

His pants were being tugged down again and Gwaine jerked at every touch on his exposed skin. It wasn't like him to give up but he was so hungry and so exhausted. He actually found himself missing the cold cell. At least it was safe there.

He heard the man behind him spit and then something was being pushed against his entrance. Gwaine used whatever energy he had left to struggle away. It didn't stop anything. It didn't matter how much Gwaine fought. He was powerless. “No!”

Then the man shoved himself inside and Gwaine bit his lip to bite back a scream. It was an entirely new kind of pain, one that burned Gwaine's insides and one that tore something away from his very soul. It made Gwaine sick.

“By the gods, it's so tight...” the man moaned and rocked his hips forward, Gwaine clenched his eyes shut.

In front of him, another soldier gripped whatever hair Gwaine had left and lifted his head. A cock was waiting for him and Gwaine flinched away. Struggling to catch his breath as the man behind him thrust all the way inside, his pace quickening and becoming more rough.

“I'll make you a deal, twat,” the man in front of Gwaine snarled and Gwaine was having a really hard time listening; “Suck my dick and I won't carve your tongue out. Sound fair?”

Then without any further warning, he shoved himself down Gwaine's throat. Gwaine choked on it immediately. He gasped around the deep, slow pace in his throat and fast, violent thrusts from behind trying to catch his breath.

The man pounding into him grunted in pleasure and his pace quickened, the friction easing as Gwaine began to bleed. When his brutal thrusts became erratic, Gwaine realized he was close to finishing. Gwaine tried with everything he had to pull his hips off the man; he decided he did not want the man's seed inside of him. The thought made him blanch and he gagged around the member deep in his throat.

The soldier fucking him grabbed Gwaine by the hips with barbarous force and slammed Gwaine back into him. Gwaine could feel the twitch of the other man's cock in him as the thug came deep inside. It was the most revolting sensation Gwaine had ever experienced.

Then the other man climaxed in his mouth unexpectedly and Gwaine was forced to swallow it. Everyone around them laughed when Gwaine sputtered on the man's ejaculate. Gwaine lowered his head in shame as the man behind him slapped him on the ass and shouted; “Who's next?” A round of huzzahs followed and Gwaine felt his fight leave him.

Gwaine didn't know how many had their way with him after that. He'd cocooned himself in his own mind so deeply that he barely heard Morgana praising her men before allowing darkness to consume his mind. They didn't push him until he passed out, no; Gwaine welcomed unconsciousness at his own volition.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

 

Elyan had been pacing for what felt like hours. They'd taken Gwaine a long time ago. Normally the other knight was back by now. If Gwaine was dead, then there was no hope of escape whatsoever and if Gwaine was dead then that meant that he...that he was _dead_. Elyan didn't know if he could handle that.

Just as he was panicking, Elyan heard the door to the dungeons open. Boots trudged down the hall weightily and Elyan was equal parts relieved and terrified. Someone coming down here was either bringing Gwaine, or bringing news of Gwaine's demise. He fiddled with his hands nervously as he waited for the men to come around the corner.

The moment they did, he grinned. Gwaine was indeed alive and being escorted back to the cell. It faltered, however, when he saw the state Gwaine was in. His shirt was gone and his exposed flesh was covered in bruises, cuts, and dirt. Gwaine was barely, if at all, conscious. His hair was cut, haphazardly and hideously.

Elyan took a step back when the guards wrenched the door open. They threw Gwaine inside unceremoniously and he didn't even try to catch himself, even though his hands were no longer shackled. As Elyan hurried to his friend's side, one of the guards set down a tray of food. Fresh fruits and a jug of clean water. Elyan blinked up at them in surprise.

One of them spit on Gwaine while the other spoke; “Lady Morgana said he earned it. Believe me, they made that poor sod work for it this time.” He didn't sound in the least bit concerned, just amused. He laughed as he slammed the cell shut and they sauntered off.

Elyan fell to Gwaine's side, immediately reaching out to search for broken bones. Before he could touch Gwaine's skin, a hand snagged him by the wrist. Elyan almost jumped when he looked up and realized Gwaine was staring at him with clear brown eyes, intense and sharp.

“I'm fine,” Gwaine's voice was raspy and he winced; “Gaius.”

Elyan knew what that meant. He knew that Gwaine needed space, and that they would approach the subject later. Although, something told Elyan this time wherever Gwaine had gone, whatever he'd been through, was so much worse than before.

Elyan tended to Gaius while Gwaine rested. He'd even managed to coax the old man into eating some strawberries while they had them. By the time they'd both eaten and had some water, they were in much better spirits. Gaius even managed to sit up. When he did however, his face fell. Elyan turned to see what was causing his distress and was shocked.

Gwaine was laying on his side, his back to the wall. His arms held his abdomen protectively. He was shaking and sweating and grunting in pain. The bruises and scrapes on his face and neck looked so dark in the cool lighting. He was asleep, if fitful twitches and restless murmurs even counted.

“What happened?” Gaius asked, guilt and worry mottling his wrinkled face.

“I don't know,” Elyan hesitated; “He wouldn't say. Should we wake him...?”

“I suspect he may need as much rest as he can get,” Gaius sighed.

Hours passed and Elyan watched Gaius drift back into a restless sleep; Gwaine hadn't woken up yet. It wasn't really like Elyan to be such a mother hen, but he felt the urge to help _somehow_. Gwaine was going through all of this pain on his and Gaius' behalf, and Elyan hated feeling so helpless.

Just as he hunkered down to get some shut eye of his own, Elyan was startled into alertness by the sound of approaching footfalls. Clunky boots he'd come to recognize as those Morgana's soldier's wore. Gwaine snapped awake, and Elyan lifted a hand to indicate that Gwaine stay put. Elyan was tense, reaching for a sword he knew was no longer there.

“You sure we ain't gonna get caught?” one voice asked, unsure.

There was a laugh; “Who cares? They can just join in. The lads said its some of the best they've ever had, just putting the Camelot bitch in his place. I say we more than earned a round ourselves, eh? One of them guards that dragged him back here told me he ain't in any shape to put up a fight.”

“What about the other un?” another question; “Ain't he gonna try somethin?”

“Nah, I'll just drag the mouthy un out into the hall,” the thugs were close now and Elyan was plotting his next move, no way was he sitting by idly while they hurt Gwaine. At least not when he could help it.

“Peachy,” Gwaine grunted sarcastically. When Elyan glanced over at him, Gwaine was smiling, although it was hardly distinguishable from a grimace. Elyan gave his friend a terse smile too. “You ready for a fight?” Gwaine shifted, trying to take a knee and failing uncomfortably; “I, ungh, I know its been a while for you. You may be a bit rusty.”

“Even so I'm in better shape for it than you,” Elyan jested; “I can, you know, _stand_.”

“Never knew you were such a braggart,” Gwaine grunted.

The guards stopped outside of the cell and Elyan held his breath. “Oi, can I have him first? I want a go while he still got a little fight left.”

“Sure,” his companion responded and Elyan decided he really did not like the sound of their plans, whatever they may be; “It don't matter to me.” Then the lock clicked and the door swung open.

Immediately a sword was directed at Elyan. The guards had entered the room with weapons drawn. Elyan had been relying on them being complete fools. He eyed the blade, close enough for the man to land a swift blow but just far enough that it was nearly impossible for Elyan to take it, then he glanced at Gwaine. The other guard already had him by his tattered remains of hair and bicep, dragging him toward the cell door. Gwaine wasn't fighting back at all.

“Let go of him!” Elyan took a step forward, but the cold press of steel at his neck halted him.

“Now, now. It ain't like we're gonna kill 'im;” the man in front of Elyan was saying and Elyan snapped his attention back to him; “Just sit tight and shut up.” Once Gwaine was outside, the man took a step back and shut the cell door, locking it.

“Gwaine!” Elyan jumped at the bars, watching helplessly as they dropped Gwaine carelessly to the dirty ground.

They both sheathed their swords. Panic flooded Elyan when one of the guards straddled Gwaine and he screamed in pain. Snatching Gwaine's face the man leaned closer to get the knight's attention. Gwaine pushed at the man's chest with the little energy he had, and the guard grabbed his bruised wrists with enough force to make Gwaine writhe. He slammed Gwaine's hands down on either side of his head and Gwaine grunted.

“What? Ain't you gonna fight?” the guard jeered; “Thought all you knights liked upholding your honor and all that. You're a knight ain't ya?”

Gwaine mumbled something under his breath that no one heard.

The man on top of him leaned closer, his ear hovering just over Gwaine's mouth. “What'd you say, _Gwaine_?”

Elyan saw a grin split Gwaine's face; “That's Sir Gwaine to you.” Then Gwaine shot forward and sunk his teeth into the sensitive flesh of the man's ear.

The guard jerked back, clutching at his bleeding neck and releasing his hold on Gwaine's arms. Once he was free, Gwaien tugged the keys off the guard's belt and sneakily tossed them to Elyan. The second man moved toward Gwaine while Elyan hurriedly worked the lock. An armored boot had just found its place on Gwaine's throat when Elyan threw the door open.

As both men turned, each was met with a fist to the face. Elyan's went down, but Gwaine didn't have enough strength. As the man on his waist snatched Gwaine's throat and _squeezed_ a sword was plunged into his back, piercing his heart. He toppled over to the side and Gwaine groaned.

“Huh,” he was panting, staring at the ceiling; “Can't believe that,” he winced; “worked.”

“You and me both,” Elyan chuckled, crouching down next to Gwaine.

“Could you, ugh,” Gwaine shifted, trying to move his legs still pinned under the weight of the dead man; “Get him off me?”

Elyan did so immediately; “Right. Looks like we're making an escape. You ready?”

Gwaine reached over and pulled out the fallen man's sword from his belt; “As I'll ever be.”

Then commotion reached them; Elyan shared a concerned look with Gwaine as the shouts and clashes of steel on steel got louder. Without a second thought, he reached down and hoisted Gwaine to his feet. Gwaine bit back another scream and favored his right leg completely. Once he had caught his breath, they both took haphazard fighting stances.

Elyan supported as much of Gwaine as he could, but there was no way they could fight like this. Gwaine grunted, his head lolling forward and sword shaking in his hand. He was in no shape to hold himself upright, let alone withstand combat. Even so Elyan readied himself as the sounds of battle finally reached their doorstep. A man was thrown against the wall feet in front of them, one of Morgana's soldiers.

Then Percival rounded the corner.

Relief flooded Elyan and he laughed out loud. Gwaine sent him a confused look before he noticed Percival's approach. Alive, sword in hand, Leon close behind. They were here for a rescue; Elyan could have wept and Gwaine allowed the sword to slip from his weakening grasp.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you two,” Elyan said as Percival stepped forward. He shook Elyan's hand, and hesitated when he took in Gwaine's appearance. Before he could speak, Elyan motioned for him to help Gaius and, nodding, the big man moved into the cell. Leon stepped toward them; he gave Gwaine a once over and a flick of worry twitched at his brow.

“Gwaine?” Leon asked, moving in to support his weight and offer Elyan some relief; “What happened to you?”

When his arm reached around Gwaine's waist, the brunette jerked back from his touch. Leon stilled uncomfortably before Gwaine gave Leon an apologetic look. He quickly wiped it off with a shit eating grin; “Thought it was about time I got a hair cut. Like it?”

Leon wasn't buying it. Unhooking his cloak, he dropped it over Gwaine's shoulders wordlessly, ignoring Gwaine's quirked brow. He nodded to Elyan, who moved away to help Percival. Gwaine barely managed to stand even with Leon's support and it was obvious he was in a great deal of pain.

“We have to get out of here,” Leon encouraged.

“You really don't have to tell me twice,” Gwaine panted, looking as smug and eager for a fight as ever.

Then they made their exit, slowly, especially once they hit the stairs. Gwaine was more than limping, his left leg went unused and every step made him grunt in pain. Elyan covered the rear while Leon managed to wield a sword with Gwaine's weight hanging across his shoulders. They were making for the infirmary when the sound of approaching footsteps halted them. Soldiers. They prepared for attack.

Gwaine reached across Leon and tugged his dagger from its sheath. Shrugging off Leon's support he stood on his right leg as sturdily as he could manage. Then, he motioned to Percival, pointing out a narrow hall he knew lead to the kitchen, which was not so far from the apothecary’s chambers.

“Go,” Gwaine rolled his neck and Leon's cloak slipped from his shoulders; “We can cover you.”

Elyan was going to protest, but realized Gwaine was right. Percy needed someone to cover him and Elyan was barely in a condition to do so, Gwaine even less so. At least fighting with Leon, Gwaine stood a chance. Elyan gave Gwaine and Leon a nod before he and Percival hurried to help Gaius.

“You sure you're up for this?” Leon asked, eying the bruises decorating Gwaine's body and his wavering stance warily.

Gwaine chuckled coldly; “You have no idea how bad I want to kill these bastards.”

Leon nodded solemnly and took a fighting stance. Five soldiers ran around the corner before them; they were being chased by Arthur's men. Leon shared a grin with Gwaine. This was going to be an easy fight; for once they had the advantage of numbers.

They took their enemies by surprise, Gwaine tossing his dagger into one's throat while Leon sliced two down with three well place blows. One of Arthur's soldiers disarmed a guard, slitting his throat with his own blade, at the same time Leon took the last man head on, knocking him onto his back. He was about to end the man's life when Gwaine halted him.

“Leon!” he shouted and his voice cracked; “Stop!”

When Leon turned toward his friend, Gwaine's eyes were bursting with absolute rage. The rest of Arthur's soldiers had stopped when they realized there was no fight to be had anymore. They were watching Gwaine intensely as well. He wiped at the sweat trickling down his faceas he gimped toward Morgana's soldier laying prone on the ground.

“That one,” Gwaine panted; “He's mine.”

“What? Can't get enough of me twat-ugh!” the man jeered before Gwaine's boot slammed into his gut with all the strength his adrenaline allowed him to muster. When the man twisted in pain, Gwaine screamed and clutched his waist.

“Ha! You can't even stand,” the soldier swept Gwaine's feet from under him and Gwaine crashed to the floor. Leon stepped forward, but Gwaine halted him with one pointed, pained, pissed off look.

Holding his tender ribs, Gwaine managed to crawl mostly to his knees. Then he reeled his fist back and smashed it into the man's face with enough force to break something, audibly and sickeningly. The soldier groaned and grunted, trying to laugh under Gwaine's assault. All the while, Camelot's men remained silent.

When the man had stopped laughing, even after he'd stopped gurgling, and blood coated Gwaine's hands, Gwaine didn't stop. He kept beating him with everything he had, screaming when pain wracked his body but refusing to show any mercy. He could feel bone and it was cutting jaggedly into his knuckles.

Hands descended on his shoulders trying to pull him back and panic consumed him. He flailed, elbowing the man restraining him in the chest and shouting; “Get off me!” Again his voice cracked.

“Gwaine!” Leon snapped, releasing his hold on Gwaine to move himself into the other man's eye-line; “You are going to worsen your wounds. Just—take a breath.”

Gwaine did. One. Two.

He looked down; blood covered his hands and they were shaking. Suppressing his emotions, Gwaine wiped his hands on his pants hastily. Leon watched him carefully as Gwaine turned away from the corpse he'd made and slowly slid his facade back into place.

“Bastard cut my hair,” Gwaine grinned meekly, wiping at his face and accidentally smearing blood across his cheekbone. He blinked heavily and Leon allowed his hands to hover over his friend.

“Right...” Leon forced a smile; “Think you can stand?”

Gwaine huffed smugly; “Of course.” Yet he made no move to do so.

Leon sighed. “Alright, Gwaine I'm going to have to help you then. Just don't punch me anymore, okay?”

Gwaine nodded, a bit slowly. When he looked up, he was looking over Leon's shoulder. Then his eyes snapped open and Gwaine's bloody hands shot up and caught Leon by his chain mail clad biceps. Before anyone could ask what was wrong, Gwaine yelled; “Get down!” and shoved Leon over. An arrow buried itself into Gwaine and he toppled backward.

The rest of Camelot's men took out the nearby archer, hiding amongst the tapestries. Leon sat back up immediately and a coldness sank into his stomach when he saw that Gwaine was supine. He leaned over Gwaine, and was relieved that his friend and savior was, indeed, still alive.

“Should've just let you take it,” Gwaine wheezed looking down at the arrow in his shoulder; “this is dreadful.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Leon chuckled; “That would've no doubt taken my life.”

Gwaine coughed. “You owe me one, so, do you think, nngh, that you could help me find,” Gwaine tried to sit up, but couldn't; “a bed or something? Feel like I could sleep for a week.”

Leon looked over his shoulders to the soldiers behind him; “You! Go get Merlin. The court physician is unwell, that makes him the closest thing we have right now. Hurry!” They rushed to obey. “Right, Gwaine, just stay put, yeah?”

“Whatever you say Sir Knight,” Gwaine replied drearily.

Gwaine's eyes felt so heavy and he was so tired. All the pain in his body disappeared in one shaky breath. Suddenly he felt unbelievably cold and distantly wondered if that was why he was so numb. Then, he began to fall. It was a hard feeling to comprehend, and yet stirred no confusion in his mind. Gwaine was sinking into himself. Blackness closed in on his vision.

“Gwaine!” hands on his face and Gwaine mumbled a protest under his breath; “Gwaine! You have to stay awake! Look at me!” The hands were tapping his cheeks and Gwaine vaguely recognized the voice. He knew he didn't need to be afraid, and to his own diluted surprise, he wasn't.

Merlin was standing with Arthur and Gwen in the throne room when a group of soldiers burst through the doors. Everyone drew their weapons, still on edge from the battle. The tension eased, however, when they realized the men were on their side.

“What's going on?” Arthur demanded.

“Sir Gwaine, your majesty,” one answered promptly; “He's been injured. Sir Leon asked after Merlin. He said the court physician was in no condition to provide aid.”

Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen exchanged looks and they agreed in silence, moving toward the door at the same time. “Take us to him,” Arthur ordered and his men hurried to obey.

Thoughts ran through Merlin's mind faster than normal. He was terrified by the news that Gaius was in bad shape. He was old and even simple illness could claim his life, although Merlin reassured himself that Gaius was too stubborn to die like that. Then there was Gwaine. Merlin and Gwaine were close friends and they had lost more than enough of those already.

When they rounded the corner, nearly running, the three of them halted in their tracks. Gwen gasped and covered her mouth with a petite hand. A couple of Morgana's men lay dead, there was blood everywhere and its source was apparently the man who was recognizable as nothing more than a bloodied pulp. Next to that mess, lay Gwaine. He was on his back, breathing unsteadily and an arrow was protruding from his shoulder. Merlin took in his appearance, but forced it aside. If his friend lived, then Melrin would ask.

“Leon! Gwaine!” he raced to Gwaine's side; “What's his condition?”

Gwaine lifted a hand toward Merlin and missed, his eyes were so blank and unfocused. “Merlin,” he mumbled; “your m'best fren...”

“He's going into some sort of shock,” Leon explained; “I've seen it happen to plenty of soldiers on the field. Sometimes when they close their eyes they pass out, sometimes they die.”

“That's not going to happen,” Merlin assured before setting to work; “Gwaine, you're going to be okay. You've faced worse odds and I know you won't back down now.”

Gwaine chuckled bitterly, and Merlin could hardly recognize his friend underneath his grim appearance. “You really don't.”

 

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

 

 

Gwaine awoke to the sound of voices surrounding him. Men talking, laughing, and dread consumed him. He was terrified to move or open his eyes that the men may be made aware of his presence. He was equally scared of what may happen to him if these men thought he couldn't fight back.

“You awake?” one asked and a hand grabbed his leg. He would not let them take him again; he would rather die.

Gwaine threw himself at the man with a shout. His body was sluggish, but Gwaine had managed to take him by surprise. They collided into the floor and Gwaine tore his arm from the binding holding it to his chest, reeling it back to punch the man. He was caught up before he could land a single blow and two other men hauled him backward by the collar of his shirt.

“Gwaine! Gwaine, calm down!” Elyan was shouting at him.

Then right next to him came Arthur's voice, and Gwaine realized he was one of the men restraining him. “Get ahold of yourself knight. The battle is over.”

When Gwaine looked down, he saw a very startled Merlin on the floor. In that moment Gwaine was so happy he thought he was going to cry. Instead he found himself laughing. It was only a little bit hysterical. Reaching back he slapped Arthur and Percival, the one's holding him, on their backs.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you lads,” Gwaine sighed in exasperated relief.

“Wish we could say the same,” Arthur was joking, but his voice was serious; “You look awful.”

“What? You don't fancy my new style?” Gwaine winked.

Gwaine took Percival's offered shoulder to help him back in bed, wincing the entire time. Once he sat down he gasped and gripped Percival hard enough to leave abrasions on his arm. When Gwaine realized, he jerked his hand back as if he was burned and grunted when his shoulder exploded in agony. Percival reached out to hold Gwaine steady but Gwaine halted him with an intense look.

“Don't-” Gwaine snapped, but his rage left immediately and was replaced with a guilty smile; “I got it, thanks.” Percy took an easy step back to give Gwaine space. Space Merlin quickly filled.

“I think you've gone and reopened your wound,” Merlin accused huffily; “You know, it was bound to your chest for a reason.”

“I'm getting that now,” Gwaine grunted and let Merlin fuss over him; “How's Gauis?”

“Fine thank you,” Gaius answered for himself as he entered the barracks; “I thought I told you all to give him some space.”

“We didn't expect him to actually wake up,” Elyan rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Gwaine ran a hand threw his hair and froze. He immediately pulled his hand away, clearing his throat. “How long was I out?”

“Two days,” Merlin answered, retying Gwaine's sling.

“That explains why I feel like I could eat a horse,” Gwaine licked at the split on his lip; “Which one of you brought me food? I swear I will polish everyone's armor and scrub every floor in this place for something other than moldy bread!”

“Got used to working for your food, huh?” Elyan jeered and Gwaine snorted.

“Yeah, and yours;” Gwaine snapped, free arm dropping to the edge of his bed in order to support himself as Elyan lifted his hands calmly and stepped back. Gwaine regretted it the moment he said it but instead of apologizing, he hurriedly carried on; “Seriously. I'd do anything for a tankard of mead.”

“I cannot permit mead,” Gaius swatted Merlin out of his way and brought a tray over to Gwaine; “But how about some broth and a little water? Your body must readjust to food.” There were no complaints from Gwaine as he quickly scooped up the offering and drank it down.

“Gwaine?” Arthur had his arms folded across his chest, a hand resting thoughtfully on his chin and he waited for Gwaine to _hm?_ before continuing; “Elyan told me that Morgana used torture to obtain information from him about where the knights and I were going. What did she want from you?”

Gwaine squinted at Arthur in confusion; “What do you mean?”

“I don't need to ask if you were tortured, Gwaine, its obvious;” Arthur's hand clenched into a fist and it was clear he was restraining his emotions; “I need to know if you told Morgana anything and what it was she wanted.”

Gwaine grew uncomfortably still and Merlin sent Arthur a glare; “Can't this wait?”

“No, Merlin,” Arthur looked as solemn as everyone felt; “If Morgana has some information about Camelot's secrets then we need to prepare for her to take action against us as soon as possible. What did Morgana want, Gwaine?”

Gwaine diverted his gaze; “Entertainment.”

“What was that?” Arthur asked, taking a step closer to hear Gwaine more easily.

Gwaine sighed and made to flip his hair becoming even more frustrated when he remembered he couldn't. “She didn't say much. Just...watched. I was their, ngh, entertainment.”

“You mean they did this...” Arthur tried to blink away his surprise; “because they found it amusing?”

Gwaine paled and his free hand came up to his mouth. The only answer he offered Arthur was a single short nod.

“Gwaine?” Elyan cut in; “Are you okay?”

Then Gwaine curled over and retched. He had barely anything to throw up, but his body tried hard and he was wracked with dry heaves. Shaking, Gwaine clutched at the end table to hold himself upright, even though he refused to look at anything but the floor. “I-” he swallowed; “I'm sorry.” He was uncharacteristically subdued and an uncomfortable disquiet fell over the room.

“I apologize, Sire,” Gaius interrupted; “But I really do need to tend Sir Gwaine's wounds while he is still awake.”

“Of course, Gaius,” Arthur cleared his throat and waved an arm motioning for his knights to exit; “I'll have Merlin obtain an update on his condition after training. Merlin, come on.” Merlin rolled his eyes and sent Gwaine a smile before rushing after Arthur.

“You must be very tired,” Gaius said neither accusingly or with pity; “I will make this short.”

Gwaine nodded, taking a sip of water. It hurt his throat to swallow and hurt his pride when he remembered all the reasons why.

“I've washed any open wounds and bandaged them, they were mostly superficial. I've put an ointment on your back to help with the swelling. Your shoulder is of some concern, however, and I've given you a rather powerful tonic for the pain,” Gaius motioned for Gwaine to lift his arms, and once he did carefully slid off the man's bed shirt moved to changed the bandages. He either didn't notice the way Gwaine flinched away from his touch or chose to ignore it. “It needs time to heal, Gwaine, and so does the rest of you. I do not recommend jumping back into the fray, but I will not force Arthur to keep you off of patrols and training for more than two weeks.”

Gwaine took a sharp intake of breath when Gaius' fingers brushed against his tender ribs. “Thank you Gaius,” Gwaine laughed coarsely; “If I stayed here longer than that I fear the castle staff would have me lynched.”

Gauis quirked a brow at the younger man in amusement; “That's very doubtful, I think. Now are there any other injuries that I should know about?”

At that Gwaine hesitated. He knew the answer was yes. He could feel a deep, awful burn in his insides and every part of him below the clavicle was in agony. Hopefully one more lie wouldn't kill him. “No, I think you've got it covered.”

Gaius nodded and tossed Gwaine a clean shirt. As Gwaine pulled it on cautiously, Gaius cleaned up the mess on the floor. Standing, Gaius added; “Oh, and one more thing.”

Gwaine stiffly moved himself back so he was laying on his stomach; “Hm?”

“Thank you for saving my life,” Gaius smiled and was off.

As darkness clouded Gwaine's mind, he felt better knowing that everything he went through wasn't for nothing.

A hand slammed over Gwaine's mouth, startling him awake and silencing any protest. It pressed him back into the mattress as he felt the weight of another crawl on top of him. His arms shot out to defend himself, but the man over him was too strong. Gwaine was helpless. Panic tore through his veins and he fought instinctively.

He tried desperately to shout as his shirt was ripped open. Surely someone would hear him. He was in the barracks and so were the other knights. Leon was bound to wake up—he was a light sleeper. Any noise Gwaine made was muffled by the fierce hold on his face. He thrashed desperately.

“Fight all you want, bitch,” a deep voice growled into the crook of his neck and the moisture of the man's breath made Gwaine sick; “You can't stop me.”

Then Gwaine felt his trousers being pulled down and he screamed underneath the hand with everything he had. All it earned him was a punch to the gut. A hand gripped his thigh with brutal force and wrenched his legs open.

With all the strength he had, Gwaine clawed at the palm covering his face. It was smothering him and he couldn't breathe. He pulled and pulled and when finally there was just enough give, Gwaine screamed.

His eyes shot open and he sat up, panting, sweating, _shaking_. Leon was standing in front of him, in just his bed clothes, sword drawn, but he wasn't the only one awake. Elyan was scrambling to stand after he had apparently fallen from his bed, and Percival was crouching next to Gwaine's bed, worry distorting his features.

“Gwaine?” Elyan asked, blinking sleep from his eyes; “Was that-was that you?”

“Just wanted to, nngh, make sure none of you have been slacking without me,” he flinched at the obvious pain in his own voice. A dream. Of course it was a dream.

“You don't look very good,” Percival noted; “Is it your shoulder?” Then he reached toward Gwaine.

Fear was instant and Gwaine floundered, jerking away so fast that his butt slipped off the edge of his bed. He crashed to the floor. A high-pitched groan was cut from his throat when he landed in all the wrong ways. His head was spinning and he heard himself gasp before Leon entered his field of vision.

“Are you alright?” Leon asked tightly and remained a distance away from Gwaine.

Gwaine wanted to say no, to curl up on the cool, hard cement and drift back away to that place in his mind he'd never known was there until...until—He chuckled humorlessly and remembered who he was. Sir Gwaine did not run away, even if the odds didn't fancy him.

“Swell,” he grunted and lifted a hand, which Leon caught up and pulled Gwaine into a sitting position. He screamed.

It hurt more than he thought it would and he squeezed Leon's hand as his whole body tensed. He could do this. His waist was agony, but Gwaine could not look weak. Taking a lengthy inhale, Gwaine pushed himself to his feet, Leon was probably helping him but all Gwaine could focus on was not buckling under the pain. He managed to stand on his right foot, his left was utterly useless.

Percival lit a candle and when he did, eyes widened. Eyes that were staring at Gwaine. He shifted uncomfortably, but before he could ask anything, Leon spoke.

“Elyan. Percival. Go get Gaius,” and they did not need to be told twice. The pair darted from the room and Leon ushered Gwaine onto the bed, helping him to lay back; “You're bleeding, and that-that does not look right, Gwaine.”

Gwaine looked down and sure enough there was something distinctly off about his hip. His entire left leg, actually. His shirt was soaked through and no doubt so were the bandages underneath. His pants too were bloody, and Gwaine knew where it was coming from. Shame had him looking away from Leon's prying eyes and gripping his shoulder.

“I think I tore my stitches,” he grumbled and Leon looked up at him critically.

“Evidently,” Leon said as he stepped away. Gwaine watched as the other man lifted his belt, laying on top of his neat pile of armor, and slid his sword back into its sheath. The muscles across Leon's back were tense and his hair was particularly ruffled.

Clearly poking fun, Gwaine jeered; “Did I scare you?”

“You scared us all,” Leon answered shortly, not turning to face Gwaine.

“Yeah, well,” Gwaine tried to snark, but he quickly deflated; “...sorry.”

At that, Leon finally faced Gwaine. “Don't-” he said sternly but quickly became unsure of himself. He paused, lengthy and thoughtful, before saying so quietly Gwaine almost didn't catch it. “It...It wasn't your fault.”

Gwaine felt a chill run down his spine; “What wasn't?” He hadn't meant to ask. If Leon knew the truth about what happened, then Gwaine certainly did not want to be made aware of it.

“Whatever it is you're obviously blaming yourself for,” Leon sat on the edge of his own bed, facing Gwaine; “You saved Elyan and Gaius, at whatever cost, and that doesn't make you weak.”

Taken aback, because Gwaine had never been that easy to read and Leon had never been _that_ observant, Gwaine furrowed his brow. “Why would you think that I...?”

“When you were hit,” Leon was staring at Gwaine's wounded chest; “You kept telling me that you thought you were weak. Whatever the reason...it isn't true. You are stronger than this Gwaine. Whatever it is...you are a knight. Don't let it best you.”

Gwaine gave his friend the most reassuring smile he could. “Yes, sir.” If only he could truly believe in the other man's words.

Leon opened his mouth to say something more, but he choose to clear his throat instead as Percy and Elyan burst into the room, Gaius and Merlin quickly following behind. The elder man glanced at Gwaine, before turning his attention to Leon.

“What's going on? What's happened?” he asked, to the point.

“Gwaine fell and he must have torn open his wounds. He's bleeding everywhere, and-and there's something wrong with his leg,” Leon explained, standing.

Gaius nodded and moved in on the injured man. Gwaine shifted uncomfortably under the physician's assessing gaze. After a brief moment, that felt far too long, Gaius turned to Merlin and finally spoke.

“This is bad, Merlin,” he sounded worried; “we need to fix it immediately.” Merlin nodded, not in understanding but trust, and Gaius looked back to Gwaine, a much softer expression on his face; “It appears as though your hip has become dislocated from the socket..."

Gwaine remembered men flipping him over, shoving his legs apart, that distinct and awful snap of pain that was quickly blinded in depravity. The injured man swallowed at the dryness in his mouth. “What do you need to do?”

“We need to reset it,” Gaius gave the man a sad look; “It will be painful.”

“For the love of-just do it,” Gwaine tried to sound out upon but he was gripping the bed sheets so hard his knuckles were whiter than bone.

“You three,” Gaius motioned toward Elyan, Leon and Percival; “Hold him down. One of you keep his shoulder stable and the others need to keep his pelvis from moving.”

“What!” Gwaine tried to sit, and scramble away, but Leon's hands guided his shoulders back down.

“It is for your safety Gwaine,” Gaius explained remorsefully.

Hands descended and Gwaine felt utter terror sink coldly into his stomach. The breath he was trying to take hitched in his throat when he felt his body being restrained. He clenched his eyes shut with a stuttering, frustrated exhale. He _hated_ that he was afraid. So very, very afraid. At his reaction, Gwaine could feel his friends' hesitation.

“Get on with it,” Gwaine ordered through clenched teeth, trying for all the world to only sound in pain and not scared. They didn't need to know that every touch to his flesh smelled like sex and blood, tasted like bile and semen, sounded like grunts of pleasure and pain.

“Of course,” Gaius nodded stiffly and positioned Merlin at the edge of the bed; “Here you are Merlin, put your leg up,” he guided Merlin's limb to the bed before turning to Gwaine; “I am going to have to lift your leg now, try your very hardest not to move Gwaine, this will hurt.”

Then hands were on Gwaine's thigh and his arm shot out, grabbing Leon's wrist in a brutal grasp. He was trying so hard not to think and failing. He looked up to the headboard and forced himself to focus on nothing but the wood. His shoulders were restrained, _and he was being violated,_ his hips were pinned down, _and he couldn't stop any of it,_ hands were gripping his thighs, lifting his legs, _and the pain was more than just physical._

Gaius draped Gwaine's leg over Merlin's knee and Merlin pressed upward. Gwaine remained unfocused as agony wracked his entire body. It hurt, but Gwaine didn't so much as flinch. There was a sickening crack, that resounded disturbingly in the quiet chamber, and Gwaine's leg immediately corrected itself.

Gaius motioned for everyone to step back and they did carefully, all except for Leon whom Gwaine was still holding in place. “I cannot believe we did not catch that sooner, Gwaine. From the tension in your muscles it looks as though it has been dislocated for quite some time. This could have serious, long term effects. How did you come by such an injury?”

For a long moment Gwaine said nothing. His eyes were open, staring at images of violence only he could see. Then he took a deep breath and blinked slowly. “I suck at dancing.” It didn't sound like a joke, even though he obviously meant it as one. Then he looked down at the unimpressed, worried, faces surrounding him and grinned.

Gaius _hmm_ ed _._ “Merlin, would you mind readying a bath?” the young man nodded enthusiastically and turned to leave as Gaius added; “Oh, and Merlin? Make sure it is very hot.”

“I know you have a thing for blondes, Gwaine,” Leon jested lightheartedly; “but I seriously doubt I'm your type.” He quirked a cheeky brow at Gwaine's grip; they were dangerously close to holding hands.

“You'd be surprised,” Gwaine winked and Leon cleared his throat. With a hoarse chuckle, Gwaine let Leon out of his grasp and moved to push himself into a sitting position.

“We need to get your wounds cleaned,” Gaius explained; “and the hot water will do your muscles some good after that fiasco. A bath is the easiest way, I'm afraid.”

“You kidding?” Gwaine shook his head; “I've been _dreaming_ about taking a bath.”

Percival sent Gwaine a look between amused and concerned; “Yes. A perfect explanation as to why you woke us all up screaming.”

“What can I say?” Gwaine tried to shrug; “It was a really hot bath.” No one was buying it, but no one said anything. Then Gwaine moved to stand and Gaius halted him.

“You should not get up by yourself just yet,” Gaius scorned, all business.

Honestly, Gwaine could give a shit what Gaius had to say; he needed to stand—away from his bed, and he needed to do it by himself. He moved his leg, trying to put weight on it, and groaned. That probably wasn't a good sign. Reaching out and clutching his bedpost, Gwaine used his good arm to haul himself to his feet. It was unsteady and he teetered forward.

“See? It's fine,” Gwaine answered shortly, nearly panting. When he looked up to Gaius, the older man was no longer looking at Gwaine's face. His eyes were focused on the blood still seeping through Gwaine's pants. Gwaine could see that Gaius wanted to say something, but the elder man refrained, bless his heart.

“Would one of you help me get Gwaine to the bathing chambers?” a room not far from the barracks that the knights used to wash up. Percival was quick to offer his services and Gaius gave the man an appreciative nod. When Percival moved toward Gwaine with haste, Gaius spoke again; “Slowly. His leg is in a great deal of pain, no doubt.”

Gwaine knew it was going to happen before it did, but he had no chance to provide anyone with a fair warning. One second he was standing, barely holding himself upright to be more exact, then he was falling. He whimpered when Percival caught him just before hitting the floor, although Gwaine would never confess to making such a sound.

“Guess I'm carrying you then,” Percival gave his friend a tight smile.

“Good thing I'm on a diet, huh?” Gwaine replied cheekily, though the rasp in his voice did nothing for him.

“Don't think its working,” Percival hoisted Gwaine up bridal style; “You're quite heavy.”

Gwaine hugged his arm to his chest and refused to look anyone in the eye. Under his facade he was hating every second of such a humiliating position. “Are you implying I'm fat?”

“Wasn't implying,” Percival jeered; “The luxuries of knighthood have not escaped you.”

Gwaine chuckled but it was a touch bitter; “Yeah and neither have the miseries.”

Gwaine waited for everyone to leave before he started to undress. If anyone thought it was out of character, no one commented. He started by peeling his shirt off, then all his bandages were torn away, all probably too quickly but Gwaine wanted to get in the steaming water as soon as possible. With shaky hands he yanked his pants off and Gwaine felt sick. Blood ran down the insides of his thighs. Wiping it away on his pants, Gwaine sank unsteadily into the shoddy, overused basin.

As he began to wash, Gwaine could only feel disgust. At himself, at his body, at his own pathetic and weak control. So he scrubbed harder, trying desperately to wash off more than just filth and blood. Gwaine let out a frustrated shout. His skin burned and his wounds ached under the assault, but Gwaine couldn't get anything clean. He was just too dirty.

He hadn't noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks, but when he did Gwaine was furious. He wiped at them with bruising pressure before forcing the crying to cease. Choking everything back made Gwaine feel utterly hollow, but he could not permit any self pity. It took three seconds and two breaths for Gwaine to stop acknowledging any of it.

Gwaine plunged under the water. His eyes were open and he stared at the blurry surface above him. He wasn't thinking, not anymore, and his mind was grateful for the silence. The water supported him and embraced him. He felt weightless and the warmth surrounding him was soaking up all of his pain. The realization that he needed to breathe did not compel Gwaine to move.

Bubbles flitted above him and he watched them one by one. Each of them pushed past the resistance of the water effortlessly and broke free upon reaching the surface. They weren't afraid to face what lay ahead. It was when the bubbles stopped that Gwaine rose from the water with one long gasp.

Pain bloomed in his chest anew but Gwaine swallowed it down.

He was going to fight this. The words Leon had spoken to him earlier replayed in his head and for no reason other than the clean smell of soaps and oils, Gwaine believed in them. He was stronger than any pathetic torture attempt Morgana could throw at him. Strength was something he'd never doubted in himself before now, and, he decided, it was something he would never doubt again.

Merlin knocked once before opening the door. It wasn't like he'd never seen Gwaine naked before. Thanks to a terribly irresponsible bet, everyone in the damn castle had seen the man's nude glory. If only half of them could forget.

“Gwaine, I-” Merlin started to say, but when he looked up, he froze.

Gwaine was standing before one of the mirrors, his face shaved and he was attempting to sort out his choppy hair. Surprisingly, that was the least surprising thing about him. He was naked, but again not that unusual. It was what his bare flesh revealed.

Dark bruises adorned Gwaine's hips; they looked sickeningly similar to fingers and hands, and on his left side was a massive yellow and black contusion. Scratches made by fingernails tore down his flesh and lashes were beaten into his back, legs, arms, bum. Then there were scrapes and bruises on his thighs too, some oddly shaped and Merlin gulped.

“By the gods, that looks awful,” he blurted, and that was definitely not what he'd been planning on saying.

Gwaine dropped the blade he'd been using and snapped around to face the other man; “Merlin?! What are you doing here?” Merlin saw the scratches and bruises and welts on Gwaine's front too.

“I was just-just bringing you a change of clothes and thought I could help you re-bandage your wounds,” Merlin answered quickly, but refused to move, arms full.

“Well, uh thanks,” Gwaine smiled tightly and wrapped the nearest piece of fabric around his waist; “I suppose it's only polite to wear pants.”

“Yes, wouldn't want a repeat of your bet with Percival,” Merlin faked a haunted shiver and Gwaine laughed.

“And I thought no one remembered,” Gwaine sounded touched.

“That's because we all wish we could forget,” setting the clothes down, Merlin lifted an assessing gaze to his friend. Gwaine looked much better after the bath, and now that his hair was even. Short hair actually suited the man quite well. Tension, however, weighed heavy in the aura around them.

“So...” Merlin started, stopped, turned away from Gwaine, cleared his throat and leveled his friend with the most reassuring look he could muster; “Do you want to talk about it?”

Gwaine visibly tensed; “What?”

“If...if you want to get something off your chest, Gwaine, then I could help. Trust me,” the logic was sound; “I'm all ears.” He grinned at his little joke, but Gwaine only scowled.

“It's nothing,” Gwaine limped over to the nearest bench and grunted when he sat down; “I'm fine.”

“Really?” Merlin cocked his head, “because you look anything but.”

“And who asked you?” Gwaine snapped angrily; “Just—come off it.”

Merlin lifted his hands in surrender; “Okay, okay. I was just letting you know that you don't have to do this alone is all.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Gwaine ran a hand through his short hair and turned away; “I know, Merlin. Do you think you could...?” he motioned to the bandages laying next to him; “I can't really lift this arm.”

“Oh. Yeah,” Merlin hurried forward to help Gwaine tend to his wounds.

They sat in silence for a moment, Merlin focused on his work and Gwaine nodding in serious effort to keep himself awake. When Merlin's slender fingers brushed against a bruise that was carved into the apex of Gwaine's neck and shoulder, Gwaine snapped to attention and caught Merlin's wrist in a death grip. Merlin had already seen what it was though.

“Those looks like teeth marks,” Merlin noted aloud.

“Can't you ever keep your opinions to yourself?” Gwaine snarled.

Merlin didn't pull his hand from Gwaine's grasp or make any attempt to move away. He trained Gwaine with a quizzical look. “How...?”

“How do you think?” Gwaine muttered, bitter, but he was deflating quickly.

“Why would someone bite your neck?” Merlin pressed.

Gwaine snickered testily; “Gotta get their kicks somehow.”

“What does that mean?” Merlin furrowed his brow and Gwaine closed off immediately; “Gwaine, what are you saying?”

“Are you finished?” Gwaine eyed Merlin with a darkness such as Merlin had never seen in his friend before. So Merlin dropped the subject.

“Yeah, just about,” Merlin was wrapping gauze around Gwaine's shoulder; “Gwen's coronation is tomorrow. Do you think you'd be well enough to go? It isn't until the evening.”

“Arthur finally put a ring on her, huh?” Gwaine laughed, spirits very much restored; “I can't be the only one not there, I'd never live it down!”

 

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

 

Gwaine's first patrol was hard on him, even though he had spent everyday since Gwen's ceremony training to his absolute limit and that was nearly three weeks ago. Gaius had warned Gwaine of his leg and hip, that over straining of the muscles could cause serious injury, but Gwaine didn't listen, _couldn't_ listen. His only way to forget what had happened to him was to push on. As he always did.

“ _So good_ to have you back Gwaine,” Arthur chided sarcastically; “We so missed your idle chatter.”

“Well you know, I aim to please,” he cleared his throat at his own choice of words; “So mind telling me what we are doing out here then?”

“Hunting bandits,” Merlin answered, unimpressed.

Gwaine shifted in his saddle. They had only been riding for a few hours, but his hips were unbelievably sore. He had not anticipated the pain, and he cursed himself for allowing it to bother him so much. Arthur had said that Gwaine was being his usual chatty-self, but he wasn't. He was focusing so hard on not letting his pain show that he hadn't said much of anything.

“-bad idea, Sire,” Leon was saying; “Surely the King has better things to do.”

“Nonsense,” Arthur said proudly; “It is a king's duty to protect his people.”

“Yes, if you sat on your throne all day you'd get fat,” Gwaine paused for a breath and smirked; “Well...more fat.”

“I am not fat!” Arthur retorted defensively, before coming to an abrupt halt. He lifted his fist, and everyone slowed to a stop. “Up ahead,” he pointed out to Leon; “Look at the rock slope there, it's a perfect place for an ambush.”

“I can see the bandits' tracks from here,” Percival did not sound impressed; “They're in a basic position, just past the treeline.”

Trying to listen to what the others were saying, Gwaine realized that something was very wrong. He was sweating, but he was cold, and he was having difficulty focusing. He found himself staring at his hands, clutching the reins, and counting his breaths.

“Shall I send a scout? We could head up that ridge there and flank the enemy,” Leon offered, and his plan was sound.

Arthur's eyes panned the route ahead; “Gwaine, you and Merlin provide the distraction. Once they ambush you, we will come from behind and catch them in their own trap.”

“Yes sir,” Gwaine smirked, blinking away his confusion; “You ready Merlin?”

“As always,” Merlin huffed, and sent Gwaine a bemused, annoyed look.

They waited for the other knights to dismount, tie their horses, ready their weapons and move out, before pressing forward. By the time they were on the move, pain had made itself at home in Gwaine's shoulder as well. He liked to think he was up for a fight, but he was well and true unsure of himself. His head lolled forward, but he quickly snapped it up again. How was he so tired?

“Gwaine?” Merlin asked, hushed; “Are you alright?”

He offered his friend the most reassuring smile he could muster; “Never better.”

They had been expecting the bandits when they came flooding down from the hills. The rugged looking men were shouting their most threatening war-cries, but neither Merlin or Gwaine were intimidated. It was a surprise that the thieves didn't attack them immediately. Instead they surrounded the pair and a leader stepped forward. They wanted to talk apparently, and after Gwaine and Merlin caught sight of Elyan motioning for them to buy time, the two of them were glad for it.

“Aye then, what 'ave we 'ere?” this leader was talking to Gwaine and he was trying his hardest to focus, but his body betrayed him and sagged forward; “A knight, eh? And whats 'e then? Your servant?” Merlin sent Gwaine a concerned look when Gwaine didn't answer. The bandit looked up at Gwaine, and took a step back; “Oi, lad, what's wrong with 'im?”

“He's...he's very sick. I work for the court physician,” Merlin played off what Gwaine was providing; “I'm to take him far from the city.”

The men moved back a little; “Wha-Is he spreadin' it round or sumthin?”

“Yes...Death Lung,” Merlin made up on the spot; “it is a very contagious and painful disease. We are looking for a cure,” Merlin used his best serious and threatening voice; “There currently is none. Catch it, and it is certain death.”

The leader lifted a blade to Gwaine; “I think my cousin Don died of that.”

Then Gwaine could stand it no longer. His trembling hold on his reins slipped and he toppled forward. He could not catch himself as his body fell from his mare. All the bandits took a step back and watched as Gwaine crashed to the ground in a heap.

“I think you better let us go,” Merlin warned; “If you value your lives.”

“You don't look that threatening to me, boy,” the leader shook off his fear; “The pair of you's ain't nothing but easy targets.”

“Maybe,” Merlin nodded, ponderously; “But they aren't.” Just as he spoke, Arthur and the other knights descended on the thugs. The bandits barely had time to draw their weapons as arrows rained down, and soon after blades followed. They were dead before Merlin could even dismount.

“Nice play Gwaine,” Elyan chuckled; “don't worry, _we_ killed all the bandits while you were taking your little nap.”

Gwaine didn't stir. Merlin shared a concerned look with Arthur, before kneeling next to the man still sprawled out on the ground. “Gwaine?” Merlin rolled Gwaine onto his back. His breathing was uneven and behind his eyelids, Gwaine's eyes were flitting back and forth restlessly.

“Merlin,” Arthur was readjusting his armor; “Is everything alright?”

“I think he passed out,” Merlin replied shortly. He shook Gwaine with a good amount of force trying to wake the man. “Gwaine?”

“Passed out?” Arthur asked, disbelievingly.

“Yes, Arthur,” Merlin snapped; “as in a complete loss of consciousness.”

Arthur had just moved toward them when Gwaine shot up and rapidly scrambled to find his barrings. Reaching toward his sword and taking a knee, Gwaine attempted to shield Merlin. He was panting and unsteady.

“Merlin, stay back there-there are,” Gwaine blinked his eyes quickly, fighting for focus.

“Bandits?” Arthur poked fun; “Yes, _we_ took care of them.”

Gwaine searched his surroundings, and sure enough bandit corpses lay at the feet of Camelot's finest. He groaned, lifted his hands to his face, and flopped onto his back. “Did I faint?” he muttered.

“Uh, yeah,” Merlin quirked an amused brow; “What's going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Gwaine defended immediately, sitting up and trying to haul himself to his feet; “I'm fine.”

Arthur reached a hand down and helped Gwaine to stand. “No you're not. If it had come to a fight, Gwaine, you and Merlin would have been slaughtered. You should have said something. Now, are you alright?” The blonde gave Gwaine an expectant look and Gwaine sighed.

Sagging in shame, Gwaine looked away; “My leg hasn't fully healed yet.”

“He should not be riding a horse,” Merlin cut in immediately, concerned. He stepped up to Gwaine's side; “If it hasn't set right, the damage could be irreversible!”

“Then we make for Camelot on foot,” Arthur motioned toward the rest of the garrison; “Gather the horses and return to the city. Inform the queen that we will be returning at nightfall.”

“Yes sire,” one of the men answered and they were off, leaving the knights of the round table with Arthur.

“You could've gone, Princess,” Gwaine was holding his abdomen; “Surely you have something better to do.”

“Than take a nice stroll on this fine day?” Arthur quirked a brow; “Move out.”

They had been walking for only a short time when Gwaine lost his balance. He was heading for a face-plant but Elyan caught him by his bicep and pulled Gwaine's arm over his shoulder. Neither man said anything, just pressed on. Everyone was trying to ignore Gwaine's ever-so-often grunt of pain, or strangled gasp, but it was obvious he was not making progress. As they went on, Gwaine was getting worse. Merlin was just about to say something to Arthur, when the king decided to speak first.

“There,” he was pointing at something just below a ridge; “A rest—that's just what we need.”

The group peered over to see what exactly their king was talking about and saw the absolute sketchiest of taverns. There was barely a road to it, and what wasn't surrounded in dead trees and shrubbery, had a particularly ransacked look about it. Broken carts, busted crates, disused stables—they wouldn't have thought it operational if not for the smoke plumes bellowing from the crooked chimney.

“You can't be serious,” Merlin sent Arthur a harried grimace; “That place looks-”

“Perfect!” Gwaine interrupted, clapping Merlin on his back; “excellent idea Sire.”

“Alright men, off with the armor,” Arthur ordered, already pulling off gauntlets and shoving them into Merlin's chest; “We go in as commoners.”

Leon took a startled step back; “Sire?”

“It's not that hard, _Sir Leon_ ,” Gwaine chided; “Just don't act so entitled.”

“Or patronizing,” Elyan piped in.

Percival threw in his two cents as well; “Or like you have any authority.” The three of them shared looks before coming to a silent agreement. “You know...it's probably best if you don't say or do anything at all.”

“Have a little faith,” Leon arched a brow smugly; “I can handle myself.”

Merlin offered Gwaine a hand in taking off his chain-mail and Arthur made no complaints about it. Once they were all in blouses and breeches, their expensive armors tucked in a nice, well hidden bunker, the knights made their descent.

It was barely three feet down when Gwaine stumbled and Merlin caught him up. Gwaine let out a frustrated noise, but gave in to Merlin's aid. “Thanks Merlin,” he grinned and Merlin mirrored the expression; “I feel so safe in your strong arms.” They shared a chuckle and Arthur glanced back, his expression amused and huffy.

Once they reached the bottom of the embankment, Gwaine shrugged Merlin off. He stretched, wincing the whole time. When he turned toward the other knights, a massive grin on his face, Gwaine found that his excitement was infectious. Even Leon was smiling like an idiot.

“Come on lads,” Gwaine pushed the door open, waving for his friends to enter; “Cold mead awaits.”

“That's the kind of news I like to hear,” Arthur laughed, squeezing Gwaine's shoulder as he walked by.

Gwaine allowed all of his friends to enter before turning into the establishment himself. The prospect of a stiff drink was thrilling and a grungy bar full of equally filthy people was a known source of exuberant joy. Gwaine practically skipped to the table Arthur had chosen, his ever present grin adorning his features in full force.

“Gwaine. Surely you can't be _that_ happy about mead,” Merlin scolded, but a chuffed smirk tugged across his lips.

“No,” Gwaine pounced on the tankards Percival had brought for them; “Not just mead, there's wine and ale too.” The group laughed and Arthur rolled his eyes, but clearly he was enjoying himself.

Their banter went back and forth for a while, and the pain of Gwaine's strained injuries was replaced with the warmth of merriment. The friends laughed, drank, and regaled each other with stories of past loves and adventures. It was when Gwaine was in the middle of one of these anecdotes that he stopped dead, silent and tense.

There was a voice, just above the rabble of the bar dwellers' murmurs. It wasn't distinguished and none of the other knights recognized it, but Gwaine...Gwaine did. A coldness sank into his stomach and his eyes fell to the table, staring at his hands. They were shaking and he cursed.

“Gwaine?” Elyan asked to Gwaine's right.

Merlin leaned over his tankard; “Is everything alright?”

Gwaine was going to answer; he was searching for words, when hands descended on his shoulders and he jumped. His eyes shot open wide and his jaw clenched shut. There was a presence behind him, threatening and suffocating. Gwaine felt all the hair on his neck stand up.

“Well, well, well,” it was that voice and he was growling into Gwaine's ear. Gwaine was frozen in place; “Fancy seeing you here.”

The knights tried to be polite, and Arthur strained to smile; “Friend of yours, Gwaine?”

“Oh yeah,” the man squeezed Gwaine's shoulders with bruising force and Gwaine reflexively jerked away; “I know him _real_ well,” he leaned over the knight until his face was inches from Gwaine's; “Can your friends here say the same?” A necklace slipped out from under his tunic, Gwaine's necklace they all recognized.

Gwaine tried to shrug the man off, forcing a strenuous smile; “They know enough.” The grip on his shoulders tightened brutally, holding Gwaine in place, and his expression faltered.

The thug growled into Gwaine's ear and the knight tensed, stilling uncomfortably. Those seated at they table sent the pair confused, worrisome looks. “Do they now?” he laughed, but it was a harsh sound; “Do they know what a little **bitch** you are?”

Everyone bristled defensively. Gwaine's hands clenched into fists; “Stop.” Gwaine went ignored but his friends' reactions didn't. The man took in their discomfort and growing anger with a wicked smirk.

“So you didn't tell them what you let me and all my men do?” the man snagged Gwaine by the hair and wrenched his head back. The knights shot from their chairs, ready to attack. Gwaine hadn't moved yet, but his breathing had become erratic.

“Don't-” he was almost begging as he tugged at the man's grasp.

Eyes panning over the knights, the man purred into Gwaine's skin; “Didn't tell them that you sucked all our cocks like a little whore?” Arthur took a step forward as Gwaine hissed and pulled away; “Or that you let all of us _fuck_ you over and over and-”

Arthur's fist slammed into the man's face with unrestrained rage. When the thug tumbled backwards, smashing into the bar, Arthur pinned him in place. Catching the man by his shirt, Arthur snarled; “If you value your life, you will not say one more word.” He tore Gwaine's necklace off as the other knights moved to back him up, all of them defending Gwaine. “I'm taking this back.”

The man shrugged, but he was eying Arthur with detest and self-satisfaction; “Fine. I've already taken something he will never get back, _Your Majesty_. If all your knights take cock like he does, I can see where you get your reputation. Cunts, all of you.” He spit at Arthur's feet as he groped his crotch raunchily.

“You son of a bitch!” Arthur reeled his fist back, but a hand halted him.

“Arthur,” Gwaine's voice was every kind of serious that didn't suit him; “don't.”

“Why the hell not!?” then realization hit Arthur. They were surrounded by men with weapons and a thirst for a fight. They were outnumbered three to one, easily.

“I'd let me go,” the man Arthur had pinned scolded; “My men haven't had a good fight in a while—makes 'em real restless. Can't say I'm sure what they'll do if they get hold of any of you.”

“Let us go,” Gwaine pulled Arthur back and was now facing the thug; “You don't really want us to kill all these idiots, do you?”

The man stroked a hand down Gwaine's cheek and Gwaine jerked back, scowling. Letting out a feral growl, the man snagged Gwaine's jaw and jerked him forward, forcing Gwaine to look at him. Gwaine's hand shot up to pull at the thug's wrist.

“I'll make you a deal, Sir Knight,” the man eyed Gwaine darkly and Gwaine felt a tremor shoot through him; “Pleasure me in any way that I want, and the only thing your friends will have to do is watch. If you live, then you can all go.”

“Don't-” Arthur shouted, trying to step forward but two men halted him.

The other knights were caught up by rough looking thugs, blades drawn and directed at their throats. Gwaine's eyes watched them carefully, calculating. The man in front of Gwaine regained his attention by stroking his chin softly, mocking endearment.

“What say you, whore?” he leaned in close, smelling Gwaine's neck and Gwaine instinctively flinched; “Want to suck my cock? You're little cunt friends are going to die if you don't play nice.”

Gwaine laughed bitterly. “And my terms?” he tapped the man's face, seemingly unafraid; “Go fuck yourself.”

“Be that way. I'll just hold you down and fuck you until you beg and cry and _scream_ ;” he wrenched Gwaine forward by a fierce grip in his hair; “Then you'll really regret your choice,” the thug pulled Gwaine into a filthy, bruising kiss and Gwaine grunted in surprise and disgust. His hands shot up to the man's chest trying to push him away; “The king is off limits, take your pick from the others—ungh!” Blood bubbled up from the man's throat and splattered past his lips.

Gwaine took a step back, dagger in hand dripping crimson. A deep red gash oozed in the center of the man's chest and he slipped down to the floor. “I'll take something _you_ can never get back,” Gwaine knelt in front of the dying man, “you're life.” Then Gwaine slit the man's throat.

“Down!” Leon shouted, and the knights knowingly dropped. Turning, Percival threw a hard punch, knocking one captor off his feet and hell broke loose. The knights parried weapons skillfully, a blade slicing Elyan's arm luckily the only injury received.

“Now!” Leon kicked the nearest torch from its socket and the banners above caught fire. At the same time, Elyan knocked a torch to the floor and the straw there burst into flames as well. Leaving them surrounded and the only way out the window above the bar.

“On me!” Arthur demanded and his knights followed as he lead them to their escape. Elyan and Leon caught Gwaine up on either side and helped him climb to freedom. Merlin covered the rear and ensured that everyone of the group made it outside as efficiently as possible. Once out of the tavern, they ran.

“Arthur next time I say something is a bad idea-” Merlin started and Arthur finished.

“I'll take it into consideration! Come on,” Arthur waved them toward a path that circled back to their weapons and armor.

They continued on without so much as slowing before they realized that they weren't in fact being followed. It was a quiet agreement that they would not take any risks and did not stop until they reached their stashed armory. As they neared it, Gwaine spoke for the first time since they'd left the tavern.

“...let go of me,” he whispered; Leon and Elyan barely even caught it.

Leon gave his friend a concerned look; “What-?”

“Let go of me!” Gwaine shouted struggling against their hold on him; “Get! Off! Get off of me!” His voice was hoarse with emotion and his friends made to comply immediately. Once he was free, he fell to his knees.

No one knew what to do as his breaths became shorter and weaker. He was shaking and holding his chest desperately, almost as if he couldn't breathe. Leon knew what it was; Gwaine was panicking.

He knelt in front of Gwaine slowly, lifting his hands but not touching the other man. “Gwaine, what do you call a heroic mosquito in steel breeches?”

Furrowing his brow, Gwaine looked up to his friend in obvious confusion. “Wha...?” he gasped. Everyone was giving Leon the same confused look.

“A bite in shining armor!” he announced to all the dumbfounded faces around him.

There was a second that past and Merlin started to snicker, then soon Elyan followed, and Gwaine thereafter. In just a brief moment, everyone was laughing at one of the stupidest jokes they'd ever heard, including Leon. Honestly, they didn't know what else to do.

“What...” Gwaine panted; “What was that?”

“A distraction,” Leon made sure Gwaine could see his hands; “You're breathing, so it seems to have worked.”

“What just happened?” Gwaine asked, straining to focus.

“You were panicking,” Leon answered quickly, no judgement.

Merlin was pacing in front of his friend; “Gwaine...? That man, you knew him?”

“He...was one of Morgana's thugs,” Gwaine, clutching his abdomen, made to stand.

“What he said-” Merlin stopped in his tracks and turned on the man, watching him carefully; “The things he talked about...”

“Lies,” Gwaine replied shortly.

Merlin took on a much softer, reproachful tactic; “Gwaine...what reason did he have to lie...?”

Everyone waited solemnly, eyes on Gwaine.

Gwaine flopped back, failing to stand, and rested an arm over top of his knee. He sighed and something about him changed, he deflated in defeat. Running a hand through his short hair, Gwaine finally spoke. His voice was cold and hauntingly empty.

“They fucked me,” Gwaine shrugged; “Sex is sex. It's not a big deal. I've been through worse-”

“Not a big deal!” Arthur cut in; he was visibly upset; “Gwaine, _how_ can you think that?”

Everyone turned to Arthur in shock but Gwaine maintained his nonchalant air; “What exactly should I think, then, Sire?”

Arthur stuttered, but eventually shot back; “How could you just let them do those things? What kind of knight would sink so low? You should have fought them or died trying!”

"What about Elyan and Gaius?" Gwaine snorted dismissively; "I'm not worth it. It was food for my innocence and as I've said; I've been through worse." He wasn't sure that part was true, but his voice never wavered or gave anything away.

When his eyes flicked up to gauge the others reactions he found a gut wrenching mix of emotions. Elyan's was guilt, as if Gwaine's suffering was his fault, Percival's surprise, as if the image he had of Gwaine was shattered to pieces, Leon's was hard; he knew Gwaine was lying. Arthur was staring down at him with his face twisted into disgust. That hurt more than Gwaine thought it would. It was Merlin's disappointed gaze that had Gwaine's stomach twisting into knots the most though. As though Gwaine had let him down.

"Are we going to sit here all day lads?" Gwaine asked, more sharp than he had intended.

“Alright men, round up your weapons and armor,” Arthur stood, moving to follow his own orders. When Gwaine made to as well, Arthur lifted his hand to halt the man; “Not you Gwaine. You shouldn't be wearing armor if you aren't healed. You...” Arthur cleared his throat of his hesitation; “you are going to need some help walking as well.”

Gwaine huffed out a laugh, masking his annoyance; “ _Yes sire_.”

Arthur turned to his knights; “We will take turn shouldering Gwaine. I'll go first, Merlin you can carry his armor.”

Merlin, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, perked at the mention of his name. Instead of his typical complaint, Merlin hurried to gather Gwaine's belongings. He did so wordlessly and his focus was distant, as though he was lost in his own thoughts.

After pulling on his own armor, Arthur turned toward Gwaine, who hadn't made any attempts to stand or move. There was an awkward moment of hesitation from Arthur before he offered a hand to Gwaine.

“Come on,” Arthur ordered and Gwaine quirked a brow at him; “It's not everyday a king offers to carry you.”

Gwaine snorted; “I've met a lot of kings, and they've offered me many things.”

Merlin interjected; “and yet here you are, a knight of Camelot under King Arthur.”

“Here I am,” Gwaine agreed and caught up Arthur's hand with more force than necessary.

 

* * *

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

 

The moment they made it back to Camelot, Gwaine was on his wobbly feet, heading into the city eagerly. When his friends asked where he was going, he yelled them a short _Gaius_ and continued into the lower town. His trajectory was obviously not the Citadel and yet no one made to stop him.

“Leon, Percival,” Arthur's voice was commanding, but something in it was quaky, uneasy; “Keep an eye on him.”

Neither man complained when they nodded and set off to the task at hand. Gwaine wasn't walking very fast, even though it looked like he was trying, so Leon and Percival kept a relaxed stroll. When they turned to politely refuse a plump cabbage from a generous citizen, the dark, filling out locks of Gwaine's hair were no where to be seen.

“Damn,” Leon cursed under his breath; “We lost him.”

The pair stopped, taking a moment to ponder Gwaine's destination when it hit them at the same time. It should have been obvious, really. They looked at each other and sighed in unison; “The tavern.”

Gwaine strut into the familiar building easily, giving the bar maid a sparkling smile as he sat at his usual table. He was in a lot of pain, but had always found alcohol to be as good a remedy as any.

It was early yet so the tavern was quiet and for the first time all day, Gwaine wished he wasn't alone. Before he thought being by himself would clear his head, help him to rebuild his carefully crafted walls, but he was wrong. If anything, this was much worse.

“You want your usual Sir Gwaine?” the bar maid with soft, creamy skin and a head full of gorgeous ruby curls startled him out of his thoughts.

“Not today darling,” Gwaine admired the dusting of pink that blossomed across her round cheeks; “Give me two tankards of ale and some wine. Better make it the bottle.”

She moved off to obey, voice like music to his ears; “That bad, is it?”

“It is,” he responded, good mood dissipating when he saw the simple silver band on her petite finger and remembered her huge, jealous, _butcher_ husband.

“Then the first round is on the house, love,” she gave him a genuine smile, plump lips parting to reveal pearly teeth; “You've surely earned it.”

There were four taverns in the lower towns, but only two of them had women tending the bar. These were the ones Gwaine visited the most often. Leon remembered because Gwaine had tried to get him to wed one of the ladies for free drinks. She was, of course, already married but gave them a free round anyway. Leon had always thought such a lovely woman was wasted on such a terrible butcher.

“I know where he is,” Leon huffed, heading down the nearest side street and Percival followed.

“You think we should go after him?” Percival asked softly and Leon had not even thought about it, too quick to follow orders perhaps; “I mean...what if Gwaine needs to be alone?”

For a moment, Leon's confident stride wavered, suddenly recalling Gwaine's confession like a punch to the gut. He could see the signs, remembered the day they had saved Gwaine and his muttering, delusional confessions. What Gwaine had told them was a shred of truth wrapped around a bold lie. Leon knew he had not made a deal with those men.

It was unimaginable, utterly deplorable, and yet Leon was having a hard time feeling anything about it at all. Numb in surprise. He could see the clear concern in Percival's eyes, soft and far too gentle for someone his size. Leon briefly wondered if the bigger man had caught on as well. He did not ask.

“Right,” he nodded shortly, picking up his pace again; “We'll find him but keep our distance. We can't have him causing a riot in the streets like the last time he drank alone.”

“Yeah,” Percival chuckled wistfully; “Who knew the people were so passionate about street signs?”

After Gwaine gulped down the contents of his however-many-this-was cup, he regretted it. Already his vision swam, his pain was numb and far away. This left him with nothing to focus on but his racing mind. He was vaguely aware of time passing, more and more people entering the establishment, but could not bring himself to pay it any mind.

“Seein' you all alone...it's a tragedy,” a hand slid a pewter tankard down across from him and Gwaine started, reality flooding back to him immediately. Then the bar maiden was sitting across from him, an alluring smile on her face; “Someone's handsome as you.”

Gwaine grinned; “You think I'm handsome, eh?”

“Everyone and their grandmother thinks you're gorgeous, Gwaine,” she crossed her legs, running her foot down Gwaine's shin; “and yet, you're sitting here all alone...”

“Not anymore it would seem,” Gwaine's expression brightened; he knew what this was and the prospect of a good tumble significantly lightened his mood.

“As much as I'd love to chat, we haven't much time,” she was on her feet, snagging Gwaine by the front of his shirt and pulling; “the husband'll be home soon and he'll spoil all our fun.”

“We wouldn't want that, now would we?” Gwaine stood, finishing his drink, before letting himself be hauled away.

His feet stumbled over each other as he was dragged upstairs. Yes, this is what he needed; a good bit of fun. Above the bar there were a series of tiny rooms unfortunate travelers could rent for the night. Gwaine had rarely seen anyone use them in the years he'd lived in the city.

He was spun around, back slammed into the wall, and he would have never guessed such a lovely lady could be so strong. When her lips met his with fervor, Gwaine matched it, hands gripping her waist and pulling her into him with force.

A moan was muffled by his mouth as he squeezed the supple flesh of her rear. Gods, he wished he could remember her name. Hands pulled at the brim of his pants and Gwaine felt himself flinch. She leaned in, kissing at Gwaine's neck but her hot breath on his skin felt wrong. His hands shook when he tried running them up her spine.

Under him she was soft, pliant, but it made Gwaine feel squeamish. A slender thigh slipped between his legs but all Gwaine could seem to think about was the bruises his fingers could leave on her soft skin. She nipped at his earlobe and Gwaine's heart plummeted into his stomach.

Gently he steered her back; she was flushed, out of breath, and utterly confused.

“Not tonight, love,” he tried a grin, forced a lie; “Seems I may have had a little too much ale.”

Her eyes flicked down and she chuckled; “Finally get you all to myself and you get wine prick.”

“Deepest apologies, m'lady,” he laughed smoothly and she didn't see the tension in him as he kissed her knuckles softly.

With a good-natured smack to Gwaine's shoulder, she stepped back and let him go; “Yeah, yeah. Next time you best not leave a damsel in distress, lest she spit in your ale.”

“I'll remember that,” Gwaine shouted over his shoulder as he scurried away.

He just needed some fresh air. Normally, Gwaine would have shown her things she couldn't even _dream_ about. Normally he would fall into her sheets to forget all his problems. This wasn't normal and Gwaine couldn't shake his growing unease.

Just as he stepped out beside the bar to take a leak, a hand snagged his shoulder and spun him around. Were he not completely wasted, and were the man towering over him not a solid wall of muscle, Gwaine would've knocked him on his ass. Instead, he settled for shoving the man's arms away.

“Oh come on now,” a man from inside, Gwaine vaguely recognized, pinned Gwaine into the wall. Gwaine had to have been more drunk than he thought not hear someone following him. Hot breath wafted the musky scent of stale wine into Gwaine's face and he cringed as a small blade greeted his throat; “Give a man in need some coin, would you?”

“If I find one, I'd be happy to,” Gwaine gripped the man's fingers, trying to pry them away.

“You don't have to be difficult now,” the man pressed in closer and Gwaine reflexively jerked back, hitting the solid wall with a thump. He froze when a hand settled on his waist and dread tore through his gut; “I think you shouldn't be so stingy.”

Then the man was hauled away by Percival; “And I think animals belong in the barn.”

Gwaine's breath caught in his throat, relief or joy, and he grinned in disbelief; “Perce-”

“You alright?” Percival asked, twisting the man's arm behind his back with more force than necessary and snatching the dagger from his grip. Gwaine watched, those hands that felt so big on him moments ago looked small in Percival's grip; “Gwaine?”

“Yeah,” he finally moved, folding his arms to hide his shaking hands; “I can handle one drunk idiot by myself you know.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Percival tossed the drunkard to the ground, kicking him in his ass to get him moving; “Get out of here, swine.” Not even an intoxicated idiot like him was willing to stand up to a knight of Camelot. Not one of Percy's size anyway.

“You know he's not the first drunk arsehole to try me,” Gwaine noted, leaning back into the wall casually, hoping any other traces of fear were gone; “Probably won't be the last.”

“Are you bragging?” Percival's mouth twitched, an almost formed smile.

“No, I'm inviting you to have a drink with me,” Gwaine laughed; “Keep these grubby louts from thinking I'm an easy target.”

Percival eyed Gwaine as the shorter man laid a hand on his impressive bicep; “Are you asking me to be your bodyguard?”

“No, not at all,” Gwaine began steering Percival along and the bigger man let him; “There's no fun in drinking alone.”

“Watching you, one would think that's a lie,” Leon's voice cut in, standing a little off to the side, words purposeful; “Percival and I are under the king's orders to-”

“Sir Leon! Perfect, it will be a party then,” Gwaine smiled easily, trying to ignore the way his fingers tightened their hold on Percival's arm at the mention of him leaving.

“It looks like you've been partying enough for the two of us,” Leon assessed Gwaine's state and he was not happy; “You can barely walk you're so drunk.”

Gwaine waved a hand around in the air, brushing Leon off; “I just told the only friends I've ever had that I let twenty men fuck me for moldy bread. I think I deserve to be drunk!” He laughed. No one else did.

“Have you gone to see Gaius yet?” Leon was all business. It was not the first time they had dealt with drunk Gwaine, even if now he seemed much more unstable.

“What for?” Gwaine spread his arms, taking a confident step back to show the other knights his healthy body; “Nothing a little ale and good company couldn't fix.” He stumbled only a little.

“Alright, come on then,” Percival took Gwaine's weight across his shoulders; “Let's see if Gauis agrees with you.”

Gwaine slumped, giving in. It wasn't like he could exactly stop Percival. The man was twice his size and Gwaine could hardly even walk on his own. Letting his head loll, Gwaine watched his own feet struggle to find pace and before long Leon was on his other side, providing support.

“I don't need to see Gaius,” Gwaine interrupted the silence that had fallen between them; “I just want to sleep it off.”

Leon was watching Gwaine carefully, thinking hard about what to say or do. As knight captain, people had come to him before for advice.  _ The nightmares never go away, they just get easier to deal with.  _ Even so, Leon was not particularly good with comforting.  _ When your brothers fall, fight twice as hard in their name. _

“I've got him Percival,” Leon took Gwaine's weight off the bigger man; “I'll make sure he finds a bed.”

Percival nodded, glancing at Gwaine briefly before moving off. Now that Leon was alone with the other man what needed to be said seemed easier. Gwaine looked up at him, clearly confused as to why they still hadn't moved, and there was no light in his eyes.

“Come on,” Leon steered Gwaine to the right, opposite the barracks; “I need to have a word.”

“Yes sir,” Gwaine snorted dismissively.

Leon dropped Gwaine onto the nearest windowsill; they were alone and Leon wanted to get this out as soon as possible. The younger man leaned heavily onto the stone beside him, tipping his head against the cool surface, waiting.

“I know that I am probably the last person you would talk to about this,” Leon tried to keep his tone even, eyes trailing up to stare out the window. Camelot was calm, beautiful; “but tough luck.”

Gwaine quirked a brow, a hoarse chuckle leaving his throat; “Alright, Leon, what is it then?”

“I know what you told us was a lie Gwaine,” Leon waited for the other man to hum in acknowledgment before continuing; “I don't condemn you either way. It is far easier to judge another's actions when you are not presented with their circumstances. This,” Leon tossed a hand to the side, gesturing to Gwaine's state; “is not a healthy way to handle what you went through.”

Gwaine said nothing.

“One cannot be at fault for things they have no control over,” Leon spoke gingerly; “What happened to you was not your fault. It does not make you a weaker man because you couldn't stop it,” Leon closed his eyes, his heart was racing; “You are a stronger man for having survived, for having pressed on.”

Again, Gwaine was oddly quiet.

“You saved my life, Gwaine,” Leon sighed, laying a hand on the younger man's shoulder; “Let me help you to save yours as well.”

When he looked down, Leon realized that Gwaine was asleep. He couldn't help but chuckle. Of course the one time Leon knew what to say, no one was listening. He slipped Gwaine's arm over his shoulders, scooping him up from under his knees.

“We have to keep carrying you like this, Gwaine, people are going to start rumors,” Leon scolded even though he knew Gwaine couldn't hear; “They'll think we all love each other or something.”

Merlin burst into the apothecary chambers violently, throwing the door into the wall and scaring the holy spirits out of Gaius. When the young warlock stormed into the room, Gaius gave him a concerned, upturned brow.

“Merlin, good heavens, what seems to be the matter?” he immediately set his task aside, focus completely on Merlin; “Is everything alright?”

“No, not really,” Merlin began to pace and that was never a good sign; “It's Gwaine, Gaius.”

“Has something happened to him?” Gaius asked but Merlin seemed to carry on as if he hadn't heard. Looking at his distressed state, maybe he hadn't.

“We met a man at this tavern in the woods. He said some very nasty things about Gwaine,” Merlin ran a hand through his hair shortly; “I wanted Gwaine to deny them to the grave. Laugh and slap me for even thinking about believing in them. But he didn't, Gaius.”

Gaius frowned; “He didn't deny what, Merlin?”

“Gwaine,” Merlin was hot with rage, his voice simmering; “Gwaine let Morgana's thugs have sex with him,” he was speaking more loudly than Gaius thought necessary but he didn't dare interrupt; “He made a deal. Let them sleep with him for food like some kind of-!”

“Merlin!” Gaius gasped.

“Why didn't he fight? He is the strongest person I know and even he let Morgana break him!” Merlin was practically shouting at this point; “Gwaine. Carefree, noble, never shuts the hell up _Gwaine_ just let them-!”

“Merlin,” Gaius' soft voice dragged Merlin's attention to him; “That is not true.”

“ _Yes_ it is, Gaius!” Merlin threw his hands out angrily; “He told me himself!”

“Perhaps,” Gaius inclined his head, frown deep and disappointed; “but that is not what the physical evidence suggests. His injuries do not corroborate his story.”

“Then what does your evidence tell you Gaius?” Merlin snapped.

“That he was _raped_ Merlin,” Gaius answered calmly, quietly and Merlin flinched like he had been slapped in the face; “No such violence would be used on a willing participant.”

“R-ra-?” Merlin stuttered, shocked before sadness set in; “Then why didn't he _tell_ me, Gaius? We're friends; he can trust me. I would never-”

“Merlin, Gwaine is not a man to admit weakness easily,” Gaius sighed, “I had suspected something like this may have been the case for sometime but these kind of things need to be handled delicately.”

“I need to talk to him,” Merlin said quickly; “Tell him that I know the truth. Tell him...tell him that it wasn't his fault.”

“Perhaps...” the older man eyed Merlin carefully; “you should support Gwaine and wait for him to come to you. Enough people have forced themselves on Gwaine do you not agree?”

“I wouldn't-!” but Merlin stopped himself; “Gwaine won't come to me Gaius, Gwaine would never admit that he...He broke his foot once on patrol and didn't tell anyone until he was back in Camelot, in the _tavern_.”

“I recall,” Gaius sighed dismally, “Alright Merlin, but keep in mind that when he was given an opportunity to tell you what happened, he lied. There may be more going on in that young man's head than we know.”

“I'll help him Gaius,” Merlin's voice was steadfast, determined; “I won't fail.”

Everyone was surprised that Gwaine was the first one on the training fields in the morning. He was, more often than not, the last man up and still nursing a hangover. Today, he was on his feet, armor polished and warm-ups finished by the time the other knights arrived.

“Never thought I'd see the day,” Sir Brennis joked, clapping Gwaine on the back as he headed toward the small cluster of new recruits to train; “Next thing you know, pigs'll be wearing dresses.”

“That's not fair; I saw your sister in a dress last night,” Gwaine grinned as the other man scowled.

“Alright, pair off! We'll start with sword work,” Arthur cut in, all business; “Percival go with Elyan; Leon help Brennis with the newbies; Gwaine you're with me-” Arthur stopped short, hesitating when his eyes met Gwaine's before he cleared his throat and carried on; “Let's work hard today men!”

Gwaine rolled his shoulders, sending Arthur a cocksure smirk. When the king drew his sword, Gwaine quickly followed. The tension between the two disturbed the other men and made Merlin gulped audibly.

“Come on then,” Gwaine's voice had an edge; “Scared of losing?”

“No,” Arthur lunged forward and Gwaine dodged easily; “I'm afraid you've forgotten how to fight, what with all the deals you've been making to get out of them.”

Gwaine snarled, slashing forward viciously. Arthur met him with equal ferocity, blades releasing an echoing clang. Metal ground against metal as they both pressed forward, neither daring to relent. With a shout, Arthur pulled back first only to surprise Gwaine with an elbow to the sternum.

Gwaine stumbled back a little, catching his breath and glaring at Arthur harshly; “Where'd you learn to get so dirty?”

“I have poor taste in friends,” Arthur hissed, slashing at Gwaine again.

Gwaine barely blocked but when he did he brought a fist down to the side of Arthur's skull. Head snapping to the side quickly, Arthur shook the other man's sword off, landing his own blow to Gwaine's jaw.

“Stop!” Merlin was shouting; “This is just petty! Someone's going to get hurt.”

He went ignored as Gwaine and Arthur grappled. Gwaine kneed the other man in the stomach; Arthur punched him in his ribs. Finally they shoved apart, taking a step back each that Arthur quickly closed. He lunged forward, sword swiping down and just as Gwaine moved to parry, his leg gave out under him. Arthur's blade slashed Gwaine's face and he tumbled to the ground with a shout.

Arthur was on top of him in a second, pinning Gwaine to his stomach and yelling; “Why didn't you just wait!? We were coming for you! You-you _coward_!”

A solid fist connected with Arthur's jaw and he immediately released Gwaine. The moment his grip was free, he was being tackled over. Elyan rolled, finding place on top of Arther, fist reeled back at the ready.

“I don't care if Gwaine slept with an entire army! He saved my _life_ Arthur,” Elyan hissed and behind him Gwaine scrambled to his feet; “Doing what he had to doesn't make him any less of a knight!” Elyan shook Arthur by his collar roughly; “Gwaine is not a coward for doing those things so Gaius and I could live! You don't know what it was like, in those cells, watching Gaius whither away, watching Gwaine killing himself slowly. We were starving to death Arthur!”

“Elyan, calm down,” Percival laid a big hand on Elyan's shoulder, steering him back.

“You speak as though he's some kind of hero,” Arthur growled, wiping at his swollen lips as he stood; “and yet you felt no need to make such a _deal_ with the enemy.”

“That's because Gwaine is a far braver man than I!” Elyan shook Percival off violently, stepping up into Arthur's space with intent.

“Alright, alright lads,” Gwaine slid between them, a hand on each chest to push them apart; “If we keep arguing about my virtue it will take all day.”

“Don't touch me,” Arthur shoved Gwaine away from him.

When he tried to catch himself his bad leg buckled again and Gwaine fell to his knees. A bitter, hoarse laugh bubbled up from Gwaine's throat. He was breathing hard, staring at the ground. His shaking hand reached up to touch the bleeding gash on his cheek as Arthur wiped the blood from his chin.

“Jealous you didn't get a turn, eh?” Gwaine's voice wavered, giving way to something that had everyone stopping dead in their tracks; “Going to do it here then? Show everyone what I'm good for?”

Arthur sucked in a tight, uneasy breath; “What-”

“They all going to watch you put me in my place?” Gwaine was smiling under his bangs, an awful, dead, hollow smile.

“Stop this,” Merlin barked, snagging Arthur's shoulder hard; “Arthur this is too-”

“S'alright Merlin. He wants me to suck him off,” Gwaine looked up, eyes flat; “I'm a whore. Haven't you heard?”

“ _No_ , you're not,” Merlin defended; “Arthur may be a complete arsehole, but he wouldn't make you do that. Not like Morgana did.”

Gwaine visibly flinched, moving to stand; “Spirits. It was a joke, Merlin,” his leg gave out and Gwaine clutched at his back with a grunt. When he spoke again, he was panting; “I was just kidding.”

“Well, I don't think this is funny,” Arthur hissed; “You knew we were coming. All you had to do was wait for us! You didn't have to do something so-”

“You're just mad at yourself for not getting there in time, Arthur, and you know it,” Merlin snapped, kneeling beside Gwaine; “Stop acting like Gwaine is the one you're disgusted with. It's a disgrace!”

“How dare you-” Arthur took a step forward, but a hand on his chest halted him.

“Sire,” Leon interrupted, the man had been oddly quiet through the whole exchange. He stared down at his king with a look of soft disapproval; “Perhaps the subject should be left alone for now.”

“Perhaps you should stay out of it!” Arthur snapped but Leon persisted, holding Arthur at bay.

“Can you stand, Gwaine?” Merlin was checking the injury on Gwaine's face.

“Yes,” Gwaine answered immediately but smiled at the younger man sheepishly; “with a little help.”

Merlin hurried to get under Gwaine's arm, intent on helping him, when Elyan stepped in. The knight offered Merlin a smile and took Gwaine's weight.

“No offense Merlin, but maybe I should help him,” Elyan eyed Merlin's slender arms and Merlin rolled his eyes playfully.

“Okay, but I'm stronger than I look,” Merlin huffed.

Elyan chuckled; “Sure you are.”

“Take Gwaine to see Gaius,” Leon ordered, earning a sour look from Arthur; “He never made it last night and that cut looks rather nasty. It's probably going to need stitches.”

Merlin nodded and the three moved off. Gwaine was surprisingly, uncharacteristically, barren of complaints and excuses. He simply let Elyan take his weight and steer him from the training fields. Arthur threw his sword to the ground, twisting his bracers off as his stormed away toward the armory.

Brennis glanced at Percival, asking; “What was that about?”

Percival shrugged, lying had never come easily to him; “Nothing.”

 

 

* * *

 


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to my friends for beta reading this and thank you to everyone who supported me, I am really sorry this took so long.

 

* * *

 

 

“Permanent?” Gwaine’s voice left his throat like it was punched out of him, tight and uneasy; “What do you mean?”

Gaius had the decency to look absolutely crushed by his own revelation. “Your nerves are damaged beyond repair, Gwaine,” he twisted the tiny little hammer in his fingers; he had just been testing Gwaine’s reflexes with terrible results; “This means you will not be able to fight, run...walk even, without running the risk of your leg giving out. You will need a walking cane, I'm sure I could find-”

“No,” Gwaine cut Gaius off, words ringing out like a hollow echo; “No, that's...you have to be wrong. There has to be something-”

“Listen to me Gwaine,” Gaius laid a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. It was not meant as reassurance but as an apology; “I cannot allow you to return to duty like this. Your condition will put others in danger. I am so sorry, my friend.”

Gwaine didn't respond. His dark eyes fell, staring at the floor and Gaius sighed deeply. If there was anything in the world he could do for the man, Gaius would. An idea came to him.

“There may be a way,” and Gwaine’s head snapped up so fast Gaius winced in sympathy; “but I can make no promises. We will wait to tell anyone until I can be absolutely sure. Just…” Gaius caught Gwaine’s hand and squeezed it; “Please do not get your hopes up. I cannot guarantee any success. Do you understand?”

It almost physically hurt Gaius to get those words out. Gwaine’s shoulders immediately slumped and he looked away, nodding once.

Arthur was sitting across the table from Gwen. She was prattling on about flowers she wanted to plant in the royal gardens and Arthur didn't even notice when she stopped. A thin metal pendant was twirled between his fingers, over and over, and Arthur couldn't bring himself to look away.

He mulled Merlin’s words over in his mind. It was probably true that Gwaine was not really the target of his rage. It was only natural to direct such a strong, painful force at someone even if Arthur knew it was wrong.

Then Arthur remembered Gwaine laying on his back, bleeding out from saving Leon, covered in wounds from protecting Elyan and Gaius. The lilted fluttering of Gwaine’s chest as he tried to breathe, that wheezing, gurgling sound as his body rejected the very air it so desperately needed, haunted Arthur. There was a moment where Arthur's heart had plummeted from his chest, where he thought for sure Gwaine was going to die right there, covered in grime, radiating agony, lying in a pool of his own blood.

He didn't.

Arthur thought back to the first time Gwaine had woken up, that look of utter panic and sharp defiance on his face; terrified yet conquering his fears. A fighter. Arthur squeezed the pendant between his fingers tightly.

If that was true then why hadn't Gwaine fought? Arthur had admired Gwaine’s unwillingness to give up. No matter the odds, Gwaine always pushed on. He fought hard and always came out on top so why-

“Arthur!” he snapped from his thoughts, jumping in surprise and Gwen gave him an amused smile; “So I take it you were not listening to me?”

“My-my apologies, Gwen,” Arthur tried a smile; “I was lost in my thoughts.”

“Care to share?” Gwen didn't bother hiding the concern in her voice. Arthur opened his mouth to decline when Gwen added; “Please, I'm here for you Arthur. Maybe I can offer some clarity?”

That was too promising to pass up and Arthur had never been good at keeping things from Gwen. “Gwaine…” Arthur hesitated, unsure if he should go on but Gwen's encouraging smile dissolved his fears; “Gwaine had sex with Morgana’s men in exchange for food.”

Where he expected Gwen to gasp in horror, she simply furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “I see,” she contemplated her response for a moment while Arthur shifted uncomfortably; “And this bothers you?”

Arthur gaped; “Of course it bothers me! Instead of fighting like a man he laid on his back for them like some-”

Gwen's glare alone silenced him. “Arthur,” her voice was a dagger, sharp and piercing; “Do not finish that sentence. Don't you dare. You are angry with him?” she tsked, disappointed and Arthur bristled; “We cannot understand all the circumstances because we were not there but I can promise you one thing Arthur,” she had cooled off into a wise, compassionate tone; “No amount of consent on Gwaine’s part changes what happened to him. Saying yes to sex under threat is NOT the same as wanting it. He was violated, Arthur.”

Arthur thought over Gwen's words. Just because Gwaine had agreed...it didn't mean he enjoyed himself. A sudden jolt of horror darted down Arthur's spine when he recalled Gwaine’s wounds.

The stripes of welting flesh where he was beaten. The deep, dark bruises from fists and he was pretty sure teeth. His...his hip that had been twisted so hard it was snapped from its very socket. Arthur's stomach lurched.

They had cut Gwaine’s hair off and Arthur could almost hear the phantoms of their laughter. So fucking pleased with themselves for breaking a Knight of Camelot. Only they hadn't. Gwaine survived and fought on. Completely alone Gwaine had somehow found his strength once again. And Arthur had…

“Gwen, I have to go,” his chair scraped across the stone floors as Arthur stood; “I'm sorry to cut our dinner short.”

Gwen smiled and replied gently; “Tell Gwaine that he is in my thoughts.” Arthur nodded and took off down the hall.

“I-you...what?” Merlin could not have heard Gaius right.

“Merlin, Gwaine will be crippled for the rest of his life,” and Merlin’s heart wrenched at the idea of it; “There has to be some kind of magic that can heal him.”

“Yes, perhaps but,” Merlin halted his own words in his throat. Selfish as it was, Merlin did not want to reveal his magic. Especially not to one as prone to drunken chattiness as Gwaine. “Gaius,” he swallowed nervously; “He will know.”

“Oh Merlin,” Gaius heaved a defeated sigh; “I know it is a terrible burden for me to ask this of you only...I feel responsible. I could not help him before, in that cell, and I cannot help him now. I owe him my very life but...I cannot make you do this Merlin. It is unfair of me to ask this.”

“It's alright, Gaius,” Merlin pulled the old man into a loose embrace, tucking his forehead into Gaius’ shoulder; “I could not live with myself if I didn’t try to help Gwaine. Let's look through the books and see what we can find. We'll think of something.”

Gwaine felt directionless. He wandered the castle halls and ended up in the throne room. It was clean now, all the tiles scrubbed and the candlesticks polished. If he stared hard enough, Gwaine was sure he could make out a faded stain on the floor where his body had been dumped after Morgana’s men were done with him.

“Gwaine! There you are!” Arthur's voice made Gwaine jump and his leg gave out.

He would have fallen if Arthur hadn't caught him by the elbow and Gwaine glared up at his king. Arthur stepped back and cleared his throat. For perhaps as long as Gwaine had known the other man, he had never seen that expression on his face; guilt mixed with embarrassment and determination.

Gwaine felt curious enough to ask; “Did you want something?”

“Yes,” Arthur straightened his shoulders; “I owe you an apology. Many, to be exact.”

Gwaine’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. That was not what he had been expecting. He fumbled over his reply.

“It was not my place judge something I could not understand,” Arthur admitted, continuing and Gwaine shifted uncomfortably; “Whatever decision you made was under duress and it saved lives. I respect you, Gwaine. So I am very sorry. I acted brashly, arrogantly, and I hope someday you can forgive me.”

“I…” Gwaine couldn't look at Arthur anymore; “I didn't have a choice. Her men they...I was outnumbered, exhausted and...I couldn't stop them. They never offered me anything, just took what they wanted and I was too weak to even do anything about it. I thought if I told you all I agreed maybe…I don't know. I wouldn't feel as bad as I do, I guess.”

Gwaine’s confession was met with silence. Arthur watched him with wide eyes and an open mouth, shocked. Taking a couple uneven steps, Gwaine moved toward one of the eight pillars lining the throne room. He put his back to it and slid to the floor.

“Really, I’m the one who should apologize,” Gwaine eventually sighed; “I lied because I didn’t want you to think Morgana could break me. If I somehow agreed and let her have me...well then at least I didn’t fight and lose.”

Arthur sank down beside him; “Gwaine. You saved Elyan and Gaius’ lives. That doesn’t count as losing in my book and Morgana,” Arthur spat her name like it was poison; “could never break you. You are the strongest man I have ever met, carrying on after all that. She tried to knock you down but you got back up and that’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone try and do.”

“Yeah,” Gwaine snorted; “I told all my friends I’m a whore and crippled myself. I’m a real hero.”

Arthur jerked in surprise next to Gwaine. Spinning around, Arthur caught Gwaine’s shoulder and knelt until their eyes met. His eyes looked more like a freshly sharpened steel blade than their usual blue.

“What do you mean crippled yourself?” he sounded afraid and Gwaine looked away.

“Gaius tells me the damage to my waist is permanent;” Gwaine let his eyes wander off to the side; “No more fighting or running, hell, even walking is on the list of no’s. So it doesn’t really matter if we make up, princess, I’m not a knight anymore.”

“You will always be a knight Gwaine, do you hear me?” Arthur’s fingers curled into Gwaine’s shoulder and Gwaine finally met his gaze. He furrowed his brows in confusion at the look of utter certainty on Arthur’s face; “You are the strongest one of us all and will always have a place among the round table, here, in Camelot. Besides, it would be too quiet without you to talk all our ears off.”

Gwaine laughed despite himself; “Oh yes, it would be terribly boring if all you had was Leon for company.”

Arthur shook his head, but couldn’t hold back a chortle; “You have no idea.”

Gwaine shifted, trying to stand, before lifting a hand in Arthur’s direction; “Would you mind uh…?”

“Yes! Of course!” Arthur shot up, catching Gwaine’s wrist and hauling him to his feet. Once Gwaine was standing face to face with Arthur, the king’s eyes flicked down to the stitched up cut sliced across Gwaine’s cheek and frowned. “I am sorry, Gwaine,” he hadn’t let Gwaine’s arm go, distracted; “For this. For not getting to you all in time. For...everything. I’m just really sorry.”

“It’s alright, Arthur,” Gwaine smiled. Even if it was mostly for Arthur’s benefit, it still felt good; “It isn’t your fault.”

“Well, it sure as hell isn’t yours,” Arthur sighed.

“I think Morgana can take the blame on this one,” Gwaine chuckled, dying off when Arthur gripped his wrist more tightly.

Lifting Gwaine’s hand up, he dropped Gwaine’s necklace into his palm. He wrapped his fingers around Gwaine’s and closed them in a fist around his pendant. Gwaine squeezed as hard as he could. He never thought he would see it again.

“This-” his voice hitched when tears welled in his eyes and Gwaine swallowed at them, trying to force them away; “Thank you.”

Arthur leaned closer, resting his forehead atop Gwaine’s; “Gwaine I-”

“Arthur! I have been looking everywhere for you how-!” Merlin charged toward his king and halted when Gwaine and Arthur hurriedly stepped away from each other; “Were you apologizing?! Without me even forcing you?”

“You could never force me to do anything Merlin,” Arthur huffed irritably but anyone could see it was playful; “You just nag until I get fed up and oblige you so you will shut up.”

“See?” Merlin turned to Gwaine, grinning from ear to ear; “He obliges me. Because he knows I’m right.”

Arthur rolled his eyes; “Merlin, is there a reason you are here?”

“Oh, yes! Right,” he was suddenly brought back to the present with a clear look of determination; “Gaius wants me to go out and collect some herbs. Some potent sedatives.”

“So you want permission to go into the woods alone at night?” Arthur folded his arms.

“Oh, no. I just wanted to let you know I wouldn’t be here to help you change into your jammies,” Merlin snorted and behind Arthur Gwaine let out an unabashed laugh.

“I am more than capable of putting on my own jammies! Not that I wear jammies just-” he threw his arms into the air; “Fine, Merlin. Just don’t go by yourself. Take Percy with you, alright?”

Merlin saluted as he left, an acknowledgment but not necessarily a confirmation, and Arthur sighed; “He’s not going to get Percy, is he?”

Gwaine chuckled; “Not a chance.”

Picking herbs was really just for show. Merlin needed to get somewhere secluded so he could go over a couple of spells. In his tiny little spellbook there were only two options, a weak healing spell that Merlin’s own power could potentially bolster and a spell that promised to repair anything broken. It wasn’t clear if that included human bodies but Merlin had been surprised before.

He found a spot away from Camelot, but not too far because Arthur had been right and the forests outside the city were quite dangerous. The little clearing cut out in the middle of a throng of thick trees was perfect; there was enough space to work but enough cover he didn’t have to worry much.

Merlin was there until the moon hung heavy in the sky. He was exhausted but when he curled his fingers Merlin could feel the surge of power under his fingertips. He felt confident; the incantations were memorized and he was absolutely thrumming with energy. Now, all he had to do was find a way to use his magic on Gwaine without the other man finding out. He'd leave that part to Gaius.

Gwaine jerked awake. He was unsettled. The barracks were quiet except for the heavy breathing and snoring of the other knights but Gwaine couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. It started as an uneasy churn in his stomach and curdled into a deep ache in his chest.

He hadn't been dreaming. Most nights now, his sleep was spent in complete black. He closed his eyes to the moon and opened them to the sun. It was simple. So he didn't understand why he was so...he loathed to admit, afraid. A creeping, insistent fear with feet like a thousand spiders crawled underneath his skin. It made him jittery, made it hard to breathe, made his head spin.

He wanted...he didn't know what he wanted. Gwaine did know that he didn't want to be here. There was a nagging little voice in the back of his mind hissing insults at him. Broken. Useless. Useless. Useless.

The voice of his mother of all people reminded Gwaine that he was worthless as a knight and nothing more than a hindrance to those around him.

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Gwaine acted without bothering to defend himself against his mind's own claims. He hauled a shirt on over his head, yanked his pants up. Then Gwaine stuffed all of his meager belongings into a pack and shuffled from the room.

No one stirred so he hoped no one saw him leave. It would be easier if he didn't have to explain that he couldn't stand Arthur looking at him with such deep sadness or the knights trying not to pick on Gwaine too much anymore. Maybe it was out of some sense of kindness but to Gwaine it all felt way too much like pity and that thought burned him to his core. He was not some broken bird that needed coddling and pity and hugs and love. He wasn't.

Throwing his pack over his horse, Gwaine hoisted himself up into the saddle. Sitting across her back sent waves of pain up and down his back but Gwaine couldn't be bothered by it. He gripped the reins and steered his horse from its stable.Then Gwaine did what he always did when he inevitably fucked up a good thing.

Gwaine ran away.

Percival didn't know what to do. He caught up to Gwaine just as the man took off out of the stables. If he didn't go after his friend now, he would lose his trail. He could only imagine the myriad of horrible thoughts going through Gwaine’s mind if he felt he had to leave. Making up his mind, Percival readied his horse and quickly seated himself atop her saddle. Just as he pulled out of the stable, a thin frame sneaking in the dark caught his attention. Merlin was such a funny little man.

“Merlin!” and there was a startled yelp followed by a shout as Merlin tripped over his long limbs in surprise; “Gwaine has run away. I am going after him! Tell Arthur Gwaine was heading north last I saw!”

Percival didn't wait to see the look of utter dread and terror on Merlin’s face, too afraid it would match his own, before riding after Gwaine. Percival was no wordsmith, neither was he a particularly comforting person, even so he would do whatever it took to get Gwaine to come back. The knights of the roundtable were his family and Percival swore to never let his family down ever again.

Gwaine didn't know where he was going. North. The stars were clear and easy to follow so that is what he did. The further away from Camelot he was, the more the jittery panic in his veins depleted. Out here he was alone, no sad looks or pitying faces staring him down. The air was cold, too cold for the simple shirt he was wearing, but it felt nice anyway.

The soft sound of horseshoes in leaves that were distinctly not his own made Gwaine pull his mare to a halt. No one should be out in the forest at this hour, not even bandits were that stupid. Which wasn’t saying much about Gwaine’s intelligence to be fair but he never claimed to be a genius.

Gwaine was reaching for his sword when he recognized the steed and its rider approaching beside him and he immediately relaxed.

“Percy!” he turned his horse more so he was facing his friend, “Out for a stroll on this beautiful night?”

“Stop running,” Percival wasn’t in the mood to pussyfoot around apparently, he dismounted with a heavy thud, “You're a man Gwaine, not some scared child. Stop running.”

Gwaine bristled, “I am not running what-”

“Dismount,” Percy lifted his fists, challenging, “If you can beat me I won’t try to stop you from leaving.”

Gwaine knew, he knew, that he didn’t stand a chance. Yet that daring blaze in Percy’s eyes stirred some deep need to prove himself within Gwaine. There was little hesitation when Gwaine slipped from his horse and steered her back a little.

“So let me get this straight,” Gwaine chuckled for show, circling Percy as the other man circled him, “You want me to beat you up? What? Don’t get enough of that during training?”

“Enough talk,” Percy snapped, fiercely angry, “That’s all you are Gwaine. Talk.”

Now Gwaine was pissed. He may be injured but he was still a damn good fighter. Finally him and Percy stopped, facing each other. Gwaine rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles for show. Just as he was about to make some witty remark, Percival cut him off.

“You are a coward Gwaine,” he seethed, “Weak. Pathetic. _Useless_.”

Before Gwaine even knew he was moving, his fist shot out and met Percy’s nose with a resounding crack. Percy’s head snapped back before he was sent sprawling to the ground. Gwaine’s vision swam red with anger.

Then Percy did something Gwaine was not expecting. He laughed. The big man was laying on his back in the dewy grass with blood trickling from his broken nose and he was laughing. Gwaine bristled defensively.

“You're unbelievable,” Gwaine snapped, “Stand up again and I'll do more than break your nose.”

Percy didn't stand but he sat up just as Gwaine turned to leave, “Wait, Gwaine. Let me explain.”

“No need,” Gwaine adjusted his mare’s saddle, “I know perfectly well how you feel about me.”

“I was lying,” and that gave Gwaine pause, “I know you're stronger than you think you are. I wanted to remind you that you can damn well protect yourself. You knocked me down with one punch, Gwaine,” Gwaine didn't move when he heard Percy get up behind him or when he felt the other man's hand on his shoulder, “You aren't weak, pathetic, useless, or any other terrible things you think about yourself. But I know you Gwaine. Words aren't enough. At training you held your own against Arthur.”

“And I lost,” Gwaine hissed but he couldn't stop himself from looking at Percy.

“Arthur cheated,” Percy sounded so angry it actually gave Gwaine pause, “Gwaine. You are strong enough to knock a man twice your size on his ass. What are you scared of?”

“My leg...it will never heal Perce,” Gwaine’s heart swelled with warmth for the man in front of him and cold dread in equal, awful measure, “I don't want to hold anyone back.”

A crestfallen look settled into Percy’s features but he didn't let Gwaine go. “I'm sorry Gwaine but that's no excuse to run away,” he spoke softly, softer than Gwaine had ever really heard from the other knight, “Only cowards flee their fears instead of facing them and you, my friend, are anything but.”

Inside Gwaine’s chest, the painful tension evaporated. He smiled before he could stop himself. “Come on, let's head back,” Gwaine reached for his mare’s reins, “You big sap.”

By the time the arrived back to the city, Gwaine had broken out in a cold sweat. He was too big to admit out loud just how much pain he was truly in. During training he'd put a lot of strain on his hip and riding out here tonight was certainly a mistake. When him and Percy pulled up to the stables, Gwaine couldn't dismount. His hands clenched tightly at the reigns as Gwaine sucked in uneven breaths through his nose.

“-ne?” Percy’s voice cut through Gwaine’s haze of pain, “Did you hear me? Merlin-”

“I can't move,” Gwaine confessed, his breath catching in his throat like vomit. A cold sweat prickled at his skin as the deep, tingling ache darting down his thigh worsened.

“Don't worry about that,” Arthur's voice had Gwaine’s head snapping up. Crowding into the doorway was Merlin and the king himself, “Gaius made me promise you wouldn't be walking anyway.”

Gwaine bristled a little defensively, “What-? Gaius-”

“Has found a way to fix you!” Merlin added, loud and chipper but Gwaine could see a tension in his shoulders. Worry, maybe. Or fear, “So come on already. You will need rest if we're to perform surgery tomorrow!”

Merlin’s demand went obliged by Arthur with a roll of his eyes and he gestured toward Percival. Percy stepped closer to Gwaine’s mare. She whinnied irritably but let the taller man ease Gwaine off the saddle and into his arms. Immediately, he lowered Gwaine to his feet but didn't remove his shoulder that had Gwaine’s arm draped over it. Gwaine gasped with effort.

“I'm not gonna lie,” Gwaine confessed but he tried to force humor into his tone, “My leg feels a lot worse than it did earlier.”

Merlin, to his surprise, came to support Gwaine’s other side as they began the long, arduous trek to Gaius’ chambers.

“That's because you weren't supposed to be riding,” Merlin was huffy but somehow kind as well. It made Gwaine smile, “What were you running from anyway?”

“My feelings for you, of course,” and Gwaine pecked Merlin on the cheek.

He blustered, shoving Gwaine away from him as the knights shared a laugh. Instead of returning to Gwaine's side, Merlin wiped his face on his sleeve petulantly. Gwaine felt a swelling pressure in his chest, of belonging and love and joy, and tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. When he wiped at them, Gwaine joked about laughing so hard his eyes were watering and wondered, not for the first time, how he could be such a giant idiot.

When morning came, Gwaine was steered into a cot in the old healer’s clinic. As the old man pattered around, muttering under his breath about sleep potions and herbs, Gwaine glanced up at Merlin. The younger man was reading to himself quietly, the epitome of calm, but Gwaine knew him better than that.

“Hey, this...surgery or whatever it is you two are doing,” Gwaine waited for Merlin to look up at him, equal parts curious and apprehensive, “I'm not going to _die_ or anything, right?”

Immediately, Merlin’s features softened, “No, you'll be alright. We're just hoping it actually _works._ I care about you, Gwaine. You're my friend and I just want you to be okay.”

That wasn't what Gwaine had been expecting. Of course him and Merlin were friends. There was scarcely another Gwaine could trust more. Merlin was such an honest, goofy person that it was hard not to love him. That said, it wasn't like they talked about their feelings. So Gwaine blinked at him, surprised.

“Uh,” he said dumbly before quickly recovering, “Right. Thanks. You too.”

Gaius’ “Aha!” from across the room ruined the moment, even though Gwaine had been doing a pretty good job of that himself.

“Finally,” Gaius approached Gwaine's side, thrusting a bulbous, pink glass bottle into his hand, “Drink that. Every drop. And by the time you wake up, we will see how you feel.”

Gwaine stared at the potion in his palm. It smelled overwhelmingly like lavender. He was afraid but, as he had to remind himself so often, that never used to hold him back before all of this. Back when Gwaine was stronger. So sucking in a deep breath, Gwaine tipped the bottle back and chugged it all in one go.

Merlin helped him lay down as Gaius spoke. The fear Gwaine had felt before dissipated as he relaxed. Above him, Merlin smiled and Gwaine felt safe, loved. If he never recovered, Camelot would still be his home. The world faded out around him and his pain ebbed away. AS his eyes slipped close, Gwaine knew, deep down, that everything was going to be okay.

The Gwaine heard Gaius whisper, “-be alright Merlin. Gwaine is strong,” before he was out like a light.

 

* * *

 


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So this is just a brief epilogue leading the story back into the show's canon story line.

* * *

 

Over the last few months, after Gaius had fixed the damage to his waist, Gwaine had been doing better. He still had a nightmare every now and then and sometimes he flinched when people touched him unexpectedly but he was getting there. Only, something was missing. He felt off or...incomplete. There was some kind of unfinished business Gwaine needed to squash before he could move on.

When Leon stood, to share whatever fresh news there was from the outer villages for the knights of Camelot, Gwaine left his train of thought behind.

“We've received new information,” Leon started, announcing to his fellow knights, “on the whereabouts of Morgana.”

Immediately voices broke out into heated discussion, but for once Gwaine had nothing to say. Morgana. That name still sent his skin crawling, like it was trying to escape the rest of his body. Gods, how he hated her deep to his core. 

When Arthur raised a hand, quiet fell. With it, a steady realization began to form in Gwaine’s mind. 

“Where?” Arthur asked.

Gwaine couldn't rest easy knowing that putrid woman still walked the earth. She was the source of his suffering.

Leon’s voice was directed at Arthur but Gwaine could feel his gaze on him, “To the north.”

If Gwaine could remove Morgana from the picture, he'd rest so much easier at night. Arthur solemnly gave Gwaine the answer to his dilemma.

“We need someone to scout the area,” Arthur suggested and everyone was surprised when Gwaine stood 

“I'll go,” he replied, offering himself up for the job.

Percy followed suit, “Me too.”

Arthur's blue eyes never looked away from Gwaine, before he nodded. “Alright,” then he pointed a finger at Gwaine, “but stay out of trouble.”

“Oh I'm not the one who should be concerned with  _ trouble, _ ” Gwaine growled, “Morgana better enjoy the little time she has left,” his hands clenched into fists but he was pleased when no one at the table looked at him with pity. Instead the same blistering fury he felt burned in the eyes of those around him. Revenge it was, then, “She is going to regret the day she thought she could break a Knight of Camelot,” there was a cheer of agreement and Gwaine finished, quietly,  sincerely, intensely, “and I'm going to make sure she never hurts anyone  _ ever _ again.”

And Gwaine meant every, single word.

* * *

 


End file.
